


I Will Protect You

by Maisey2k10



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Family, Humour, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:53:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 174,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25286389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maisey2k10/pseuds/Maisey2k10
Summary: Hermione suffers a terrible attack and who should find her but one of Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors. The relationship that builds between them is one no one saw coming, but no one predicted the danger that would surely follow. HGxOW pairing. Post-War. Rated for language, violence and sexual content.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Oliver Wood
Comments: 21
Kudos: 125





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own canon events or characters, they belong to J.K Rowling. I am not making a profit from this fanfic, everything it purely for entertainment purposes. Rated for language, violence and sexual content. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: Despite it not being seen or written in detail, rape/non-con/ sexual assault, is both implied and mentioned. 
> 
> Page count:

**London - Saturday 21st November 1998**

Hermione was a war heroine. The war was over and they had won. There had been many casualties, but the world was healing. Six months later and things were almost back to normal. People were getting on with their lives.

The Ministry was undergoing changes overseen by Kingsley Shacklebolt, the new Minister. Hogwarts had been rebuilt and was back underway and educating young witches and wizards once more, businesses re-opened and were booming, children were running in the streets and laughing freely now that the threat of danger was eliminated. But there were still scars, scars that would always remain, and that would always be remembered.

Harry and Ron both went into the Auror training programme and in six months time, they would be Junior Aurors. Ginny returned to school under her mother’s orders. Percy and Mr. Weasley returned to The Ministry, Bill went back to Gringotts, Charlie went back to the dragon reserve in Romania, Fred and George returned to their joke shop, once Fred had woken from his coma and he was fully healed after being crushed by the wall, it was a miracle he had survived. And Hermione, she was now a healer.

Despite her age and only being a licensed healer for five months, she was considered one of the best in Britain. She didn’t work for St. Mungo’s, she was a private healer. The hours were more flexible leaving her time to read and research, the money was better -not that she cared- and she could choose her patients. She was highly coveted for her fame and her seemingly natural talent of healing.

Clients of hers included The Weasleys -who she didn’t charge for obvious reasons- several famous Quidditch players since Quidditch was now underway once more, Kingsley Shacklebolt and surprisingly The Malfoys. Every once in a while, St. Mungo’s would send Hermione patients who had been affected by dark magic, since she had seen plenty of it during her seven years of fighting the war.

After the war Hermione and Ron spent two months dating, but Hermione broke it off when she realised they were better off as friends. Ron was sour for a month afterwards, but he soon came to his senses and they remained best friends.

Her life wasn’t perfect, no one’s life was perfect, but she was content. Considering she was only nineteen, she liked her life; it was safe.

It was Saturday night, Hermione was in a newly opened bar that was half-owned by Lee Jordan. Hermione had helped him set the business up, despite him being a Half-blood, he was raised in the Wizarding World, and he wished to combine muggle alcohol and wizarding alcohol to give people more choice of drink.

So Hermione did plenty of research and passed it along to Lee. Together they opened the bar, she was a silent partner, she owned half of the business and she was more than happy to invest some of the reward money she had been given for her services in the war, along with an Order of Merlin: First Class. They had named the bar ‘The Crimson Lion’ in homage to their Gryffindor past.

She was supposed to be meeting Ron at the bar, but he was two hours late! She was getting tired of waiting and people watching. That night she wore a black pleated skirt that fell to mid-thigh, with black heeled ankle boots and a tight-fitting white shirt with flowing sleeves and the shoulders cut out and the shirt tucked into the waistband of her skirt. She wore a thick, black cloak over the top with the hood up, so people wouldn’t recognise her, and anyone that walked by new she didn’t want to be bothered.

She was currently sat at the bar sipping at her cocktail, she was glad she was able to introduce muggle alcohol to the Wizarding World; there was only so much elf wine, fire whiskey and butterbeer she could take.

She sighed after putting her drink back down on the bar. The bar was crowded, of which she was pleased, but it still irked her to some extent. She decided to leave when something caught her attention, the man sat next to her.

He had his back to her but she could tell that he was annoyed from his stiff posture, the tight grip he had on his drink and the false politeness to his voice. The reason for his annoyance was evident. There was a blonde draping herself over him and it was clear to anyone with eyes that she was drunk, or at least on her way to being drunk. Hermione strained her hearing and was able to catch part of their conversation.

“So, you want to come back to mine? I could make it worth your while,” she spoke, she attempted to whisper into the man’s ear, but did a very bad job and almost fell over from losing her balance.

“Am sure ye could, Miss, but am afraid a cannae do tha’, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly tae take advantage af ye in yer inebriated state,” he spoke with a thick Scottish accent.

The woman pouted. “I assure you, I could please you in ways you have never felt.” She gripped the soft cashmere of his grey jumper.

The man sighed and Hermione decided to step in and help him out. After all, he was being polite and respectful, and the dozy witch didn’t seem to understand that he wasn’t interested.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he isn’t interested,” Hermione spoke up.

Both the man and the blonde turned to face her. The man looked at her curiously, though she was hidden under the hood and he couldn’t see anything.

Hermione looked at him in surprise; she recognised him. It was Oliver Wood, Quidditch Star, newly promoted Captain of Puddlemere United and Starting Keeper. The newspapers had featured him quite a lot recently, and even if she hadn’t of seen the articles, Harry and Ron have spoken about it often enough, of how their past Quidditch Captain was now a Professional Quidditch Player.

As her eyes scanned him, she could easily see why he was considered one of Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors. He was a wealthy, talented Pureblood, who came from a respected and kind family. At six-foot-two, he stood taller than most in the room, with his handsome features, his tanned skin and well-muscled physique, his brown puppy dog eyes and his light brown hair that fell into his eyes slightly. To put it mildly, he was sex on a stick.

Hermione tore her eyes away from him when the blonde spoke up, distracting her. She may not have been the type to get distracted by handsome men, but she was still a woman and it happens on occasion.

“You’re just jealous, you slag,” she slurred with a glare. “You’re so ugly you have to hide yourself.”

Hermione sighed and stood up facing them, she reached up and untied her cloak, pulling it away from her body and setting it on the bar.

The blonde’s eyes widened, it seems even in her drunken state she recognised the war heroine. Oliver’s eyes widened too and he stared at her in surprise.

“You’re...”

“Hermione Granger? That’s me,” Hermione said annoyed. “Once again, it is obvious that he has made it clear he doesn’t wish to entertain you and quite honestly, it’s annoying. Leave the poor man alone and go home and wait for the hangover to hit. I would hate to have to resort to other measures to convince you to leave.” Hermione gestured to her wand that sat tucked into the waistband of her skirt.

The woman glared at Hermione but she turned and stormed off. Hermione sighed, grabbed her cloak and refastened it around herself. She picked up her drink and drank the last of it.

“You heading home, Love?” Lee asked, coming over to her as he stood behind the bar. Oliver watched her curiously.

“Yes, I was supposed to be meeting Ron, but he’s two hours late. Do me a favour and if you see him, tell him I left and he’s an arsehole.”

Lee laughed at her. “Will do.”

“Also, tell him that if he ever asks me to meet him again, and he doesn’t turn up on time, that I’ll give him a reason to need a healer.” He laughed once more. “Oh, and tell Terry that if he wishes for me to teach him how to make spaghetti bolognese, I’m free on Friday.”

“It’s about time,” Lee said relieved. “I love the man, but he can’t cook to save his life.”

“Neither can you, you gave me food poisoning,” Hermione retorted.

“Did you die? No, you did not. Anyway, I said I was sorry.”

“How about you stay away from the kitchen?”

“Deal!”

“Well, I better get going. See you later, Lee, give my love to Terry,” she said with a smile, leaning over the bar and kissing his cheek.

“See you later, Love,” Lee said smiling.

Hermione turned around to face Oliver.

“Well, it was a pleasure to rescue you from the unwanted advances of a drunken woman,” Hermione said with a smile. She then turned and left, heading towards the staff room. She grabbed her bag and greeted the St. Bernard that met her.

“Hi, Merlin,” she said, and she kneeled down as the dog bounded over to her and licked her face happily as she scratched behind his ears.

Merlin was her dog. She had bought him four months ago, for many reasons, but most importantly for companionship. She stood up, grabbed his lead and attached it to the collar and they both headed out of the back of the building so they could walk to Hermione’s flat.

Hermione lived in Wizarding London. She was glad to find that most wizarding landlords allowed pets since there were spells that could protect furniture and whatnot from getting damaged. It was only a twenty minute walk to her flat and she and Merlin headed down the street making their way home, but Hermione didn’t know that she would not make it home that night.

~000~000~000~

Oliver Wood was tired and annoyed. He’d had a long day at training and he just wanted to have a quiet drink; he should’ve known that wasn’t going to happen. Training had started up at the end of October now that the war was over and the Quidditch League was back underway, and that meant a lot of training and a lot of hard work. Particularly with a two year break due to the war, the team needed a lot of work and as a result, practices were a pain in the arse. And after every practice, he needed a drink, a Calming Draught or a shag. That night he went for the drink. He’d heard from his teammates about a new bar that had opened and was apparently the new hotspot in Wizarding London and he decided to check it out.

His night hadn’t been too bad, observing the crowds of people coming and going, having fun, dancing and getting drunk. He had to admit, he rather did like the new bar. He had been there for nearly two hours before he noticed the figure sat next to him at the bar, wearing a black cloak, and it was obvious to him that they didn’t want to be bothered. He turned his attention back to the crowd and he spotted a blonde stumbling her way over to him. He rolled his eyes and sighed, well, he supposed his peace and quiet couldn’t last long.

He prepared himself for what was about to happen.

“You’re Oliver Wood,” she purred and stumbled into side of the bar, before righting herself up. “I’m Louisa,” she batted her eyelashes and he had the urge to ask her if there was something in her eye, but his mother raised him to be respectful, so held it in along with his annoyance.

She continued to prattle on and he did his best to keep a polite smile on his face. That was until the point when she practically draped herself on his lap.

“So, you want to come back to mine? I could make it worth your while,” she slurred.

“Am sure ye could, Miss, but am afraid a cannae do tha’, it wouldn’t be very gentlemanly tae take advantage af ye in yer inebriated state,” he spoke with a charming smile.

She pouted at him and he sighed realising it was going to be difficult to get rid of her.

“I assure you, I could please you in ways you have never felt,” she slurred once more and she gripped his jumper tightly in her hands.

“I think he’s made it quite clear that he isn’t interested,” someone spoke up from behind him.

He turned to see the figure in the black cloak and he looked at it curiously, he could tell it was a woman from the voice, but the cloak hid everything for his sight, including her face.

“You’re just jealous you slag,” the blonde slurred with a glare. “You’re so ugly you have to hide yourself.”

Oliver felt himself stiffen at the insult.

He heard the figure sigh before they stood up from the stool, and reached up to untie the string around her neck. The cloak was pulled away from the figure and she placed it on the bar, leaving in its wake, Hermione Granger, war heroine. To say he was shocked would be an understatement. She looked at him in recognition and sent him a soft smile and then she turned her attention back to the woman clinging to him like a leech. 

He was surprised to see her there, from what he remembered from school –and admittedly it wasn’t much- she was a scholar, a book worm, she wouldn’t be seen dead having fun, let alone be seen at a bar. He couldn’t stop his eyes from raking over her.

Her shiny mahogany curls fell to the middle of her back, her fair skin seemed to shine in the coloured lights flickering in the bar, her small, pink mouth was set in a straight line, her small button nose had one single freckle and it intrigued him. and her large, doe-like chocolate brown eyes shined with emotion, mostly annoyance directed at the blonde.

The clothing she wore showed off the right amount of skin without being trashy and she still looked good. He had to admit she was very pretty, beautiful in fact, certainly not what he remembered from school, though the last time he had seen her he had been seventeen, he was now twenty-two.

“You’re...” the woman said

“Hermione Granger? That’s me,” Hermione said annoyed. Oliver could guess she received a lot of attention, he understood why she wore the cloak. “Once again, it is obvious that he has made it clear he doesn’t wish to entertain you and quite honestly, it’s annoying. Leave the poor man alone and go home and wait for the hangover to hit. I would hate to have to resort to other measures to convince you to leave.” She gestured to her wand that sat tucked into the waistband of her skirt. Oliver had to stop himself from laughing.

The woman glared at Hermione but she turned and stormed off, leaving him alone and he breathed a sigh of relief. Before he could talk to her, Hermione sighed, grabbed her cloak and refastened it around herself. She picked up her drink and drank the last of it.

“You heading home, Love?” Lee Jordan asked, as he stood behind the bar in front of her.

Oliver watched the two interact curiously. _Love?_ he thought. _Were they dating?_

“Yes, I was supposed to be meeting Ron, but he’s two hours late. Do me a favour and if you see him, tell him I left and he’s an arsehole.” Oliver raised an eyebrow at her language, feeling amusement bubble up within him.

Lee laughed at her. “Will do.”

“Also, tell him that if he ever asks me to meet him again, and he doesn’t turn up on time, that I’ll give him a reason to need a healer.” Lee laughed once more. “Oh, and tell Terry that if he wishes for me to teach him how to make spaghetti bolognese, I’m free on Friday.”

“It’s about time,” Lee said relieved. “I love the man, but he can’t cook to save his life.”

“Neither can you, you gave me food poisoning,” Hermione retorted.

“Did you die? No, you did not. Anyway, I said I was sorry.”

“How about you stay away from the kitchen?”

“Deal!”

“Well, I better get going. See you later, Lee, give my love to Terry.” She leaned over the bar and kissed Lee’s cheek.

“See you later, Love,” Lee said smiling. Hermione turned around to face him.

“Well, it was a pleasure to rescue you from the unwanted advances of a drunken woman,” Hermione said with a smile and then before he could respond, she turned around and walked away in the opposite direction to the exit.

He turned to see Lee looking at him with amusement.

“She rescued you from the unwanted advances of a drunken woman?” Lee asked.

“Aye, she did,” he admitted and Lee laughed.

“Did she threaten her? She’s quite scary when she wants to be.”

“Mildly.”

“That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

“What’s goin’ on between ye twa? From what a remember ye dinnae exactly run in the same social circles.”

Lee raised an eyebrow at the question but answered anyway. “She helped me open this place up. With her being a Muggleborn it was easier for her to research different muggle alcohols that I could use here. She put me in touch with a Squib who could get me the alcohol and with a Muggleborn barman that used to work in the Muggle World. He’s the one that makes all the cocktails, I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s like making a potion without the cauldron.” Oliver chuckled at him. “Hermione’s been good to me. She was there when I came out to Fred and George,” he shrugged. Oliver was surprised at the news. “Terry was nervous as hell, but he was in Hermione’s year at school, a Ravenclaw. She’s a good friend, a good sister even.”

“Why did she walk in the opposite direction tae the exit?”

“She’s gone to the staff room to collect Merlin, and then she’ll go out the back so she isn’t spotted by anyone, she hardly gets any privacy these days,” he shrugged.

“Who’s Merlin?”

“Her dog,” he said simply. “Right, I better get back to work. I’ll ban that woman for you.”

“Ye dinnae have tae ban customers fer mae, especially ‘coz af me status,” Oliver frowned.

“I’m not, it’s because she’s a pain in the arse, she’s hit on both Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, not to mention a few of your teammates, and you’re a Gryffindor, we’ve got to respect that.” He then winked and walked off. Oliver shook his head.

He stayed at the bar for another hour before he decided to call it a night and leave. On his way out of the bar he was stopped and asked for autographs, he complied and then left out the exit and walked towards the apparition point.

He had been walking for ten minutes in the cold November chill and when he heard a noise he stopped in his tracks. He strained his hearing and he heard it again, it sounded like a whimper, a wounded animal. He pulled his wand and looked around, he was alone. He gripped his wand and then headed towards the sound which led him down an alleyway.

“Hello,” he called, the whimpering grew louder and Oliver moved further into the alley. “Is anyone there?”

He continued walking until he could see what was making the noise and his eyes widened. There was a figure lying on the floor, unmoving, and a large dog sat protectively next to the figure. He had never seen a dog that big before.

He moved closer and it caught the attention of the dog. The dog weakly lifted its head and gave a warning growl to Oliver. He stopped, before continuing to move forward slowly. He softened his voice and spoke to the dog.

“Am not gunna hurt either af ye, a jus’ want tae help.”

Surprisingly the dog stopped growling and just stared at him as he slowly approached them.

When Oliver was close enough he dropped to his knees beside the figure and his eyes discovered it to be a woman. There were cuts on her knees and thighs, he could see blood smudged on her inner thighs, her shirt had been ripped open and she had bruises on her wrists and neck. His eyes finally reached her face and they widened even further when he saw who it was.

Hermione Granger.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count:10

**Saturday 21st November 1998**

“Merlin!” he whispered in shock.

The dog looked up at the mention of his name and that’s when he remembered that Lee had told him that was the name of her dog, but he never imagined that her dog would be the size of baby hippogriff; he was bloody huge!

He looked the dog over, it disgusted him what had happened to Hermione, and it was obvious by the torn clothing, the blood and the bruises. Why hadn’t the dog protected her? He was big enough. He looked closer and that’s when he noticed a large patch of fur soaked in blood, the dog was injured also.

Oliver took a deep breath, he needed to get them both out of there and get them help, and he needed to do it quickly.

“Bobby,” he called.

“Master Oliver,” his house-elf appeared and bowed.

“A need ye tae take us home.”

The house-elf looked around and then gasped. He immediately took a hold of Hermione and Oliver’s hand and Oliver grabbed the dog’s collar and they left the cold alleyway.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

They landed inside the living room of Oliver’s home.

“Take them both tae one af the spare rooms, Bobby; try not tae touch either af them tae much,” he instructed. Bobby left the room, taking Hermione and Merlin with him.

Oliver ran to the floo, chucked a handful of floo powder into the grate and called out an address and stuck his head through the flames.

“Thomas!” Oliver called. “THOMAS!” he yelled and a figure walked into the room.

“Oliver?” a man said surprised. “What’s the problem?”

“Get yer wand an’ bag, a found a woman in an alleyway, she’s unconscious, both herself an’ her dog are injured,” he said, his voice slightly panicked. Thomas’ eyes widened.

“I’ll be right there,” he said and he rushed out of the room.

Thomas was Oliver’s private healer. Most Purebloods had family healers, Thomas had been Oliver’s since the day he was born. He trusted the man with his life. Thomas was a kind man with greying hair, kind green eyes and laugh lines. He was shorter than Oliver, but only by an inch or two and when he stepped out of the floo he was wearing his pyjamas.

“Where are they?” Thomas asked.

Oliver called for Bobby and he took them to the room. They landed in the room to see Hermione in the middle of the king-sized bed with Merlin laid down next to her.

“Careful,” Oliver said as Thomas took a step forward. “Her dog’s protective af her,” he warned.

Thomas strode forward without thought and Merlin lifted his head.

“Hey, Buddy, I’ll take care of her first and then you’re next on my list,” Thomas said softly. Merlin whined and licked Thomas’ hand. Oliver’s eyes widened.

“Hoo?” he got out shocked, but Thomas ignored him.

“Oh, Hermione,” he said sadly and he took out his wand and started running diagnostic spells over her unconscious form. “She’s unconscious. She’s got a lump on her head, a broken wrist, a broken leg, a twisted ankle as well as cuts, bruises and abrasions,” he spoke aloud. “I’ll have you back to normal soon, Kiddo,” he said to Hermione’s unresponsive form.

“Ye know her?” Oliver said shocked.

“Yes,” Thomas replied and he waved his wand once more and a look of anger crossed his face, a look Oliver had never seen on his face before, and he had literally known Thomas since the day he was born.

“Bobby,” Thomas said, the house-elf stepped forward, worriedly looking between the girl and Thomas. “Please fetch Kingsley Shacklebolt and give him the message, ‘The Lioness has fallen.’ He’ll know what it means.”

Bobby looked at Oliver and he nodded in confirmation before Bobby popped out of the room.

“Hoo do ye know her?” Oliver asked Thomas.

“Not now, Oliver, she needs my attention more than you do.”

Oliver appeared chastised and he sat down in the armchair in the corner of the room and he watched as Thomas cast spell after spell over Hermione’s body and he held empty vials in his hand. Oliver had no idea what he was doing, and to be honest, he wasn’t sure he wanted to.

Bobby appeared not ten minutes later with both Kingsley and Head Auror Jolkins.

“What happened?” The Minister of Magic asked quickly. He wore his customary burgundy robes, standing at six-foot, with his dark skin and eyes, his bald head, an earring showing and anger marring his face. He made an imposing figure.

“She’s been attacked. She has a lump on her head, a broken wrist, a broken leg, a twisted ankle, cuts, bruises and abrasions,” Thomas replied.

“She’ll be fine, though?”

“Physically she will be. Emotionally and mentally, I can’t be sure,” he then looked up at Kingsley for the first time and they could all see the look of anger, disgust and sorrow on his face. “She was raped.”

Kingsley wobbled a little, Jolkins growled and Oliver felt disgust wash over him after hearing his suspicions confirmed.

“Are... Are you sure?” Kingsley asked quietly.

“Her hymen has been torn.”

Oliver felt sick and he stood up and excused himself from the room, standing outside of the door to give them some privacy, and to force himself to breathe.

“I’ve carried out a sexual assault kit, everything is on the bedside table. I’ll heal her, but she’s unconscious. We can’t know what happened until she wakes and that could be a few minutes or a few hours. It’s best that you return home and I’ll send for you when she wakes.”

“She’s not going to want to press charges,” Jolkins said.

He stood at five-foot-ten, had striking blue eyes, dark blonde hair that fell over his ears and he wore mandatory grey Auror robes, though they were darker, more charcoal in colour signalling his status as Head Auror.

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Thomas said coldly. “This stays out of the press.” The others agreed and Thomas finally set to healing Hermione’s injuries, casting spells and pouring the necessary potions into her mouth.

“What happened?” Kingsley asked Oliver as he walked out of the room and into the corridor, where he stood leaning against the wall, his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

Oliver stood up straight and turned to them.

“A met her at the Crimson Lion. She left an hour befere a did.”

“Did you see her with anyone?”

“Naw, she was sat next tae mae at the bar fer twa hours. She dinnae speak tae anyone. She kept her cloak on an’ her hood up. She helped mae fend aff an overly drunk woman. She spoke with tea Lee Jordan, mentioning tha’ she was supposed tae meet Ron Weasley but he never turned up. She left oot the staff room, Lee said she had tae get her dog an’ then she would go oot the back door tae avoid people recognising her. A left the bar an hour later an’ was making me way tae the apparition point when a heard a noise. A took oot me wand an’ followed it until a found her an’ her dog on the floor. A called fer me house- elf an’ he brought mae here, where a floo'd fer Thomas,” Oliver explained.

“You didn’t see anything suspicious?” Jolkins asked.

“Naw, we were in a crowded bar though, an’ a dinnae see anyone following her either.”

Afterwards, they reluctantly left, taking the evidence that Thomas had provided along with them. Oliver walked back into the room and looked to see that Thomas had moved to healing Merlin and the dog whimpered loudly.

“He’s been hit with a Stunner and several Slicing Hexes, he couldn’t protect her,” Thomas said with anger laced in his tone. He sealed the cuts and cleaned away the blood from his fur and Merlin licked Thomas’ hand in thanks.

“I’ll be right back,” Thomas said and he made his way out of the room.

Oliver just stared at Hermione and the dog, both laying on the bed. Before he could let his thoughts run wild Thomas reappeared with something in his hand. He waved his wand and Hermione’s ripped clothing was replaced by a pair of soft cotton pyjamas, and after flicking his wand the blanket covered Hermione. Thomas then left the room and motioned for Oliver to follow him.

They made their way to the living room and Thomas sat down and put his head in his hands, staring at the floor.

“Do you have any fire whiskey?” Thomas asked.

Oliver used his wand to summon two tumblers and a bottle of fire whiskey. He poured it and handed one to Thomas and he took a sip and winced at the burn.

“Hoo do ye know her? Her dog dinnae even growl at ye like he did mae. He recognised ye.”

Thomas sighed. “What do you know about Hermione?”

Oliver shrugged. “Not much. War heroine, member of the Golden Trio, terrifying temper, a powerful witch, she’s in the papers a lot. Anno more aboot Potter an’ Weasley than a do her.”

“Hermione is an incredible young woman, it’s not my place to tell you, but she’s been through a lot in the last seven years. She has seen the kind of things that would send even the sanest person into madness. She has endured things that would have others begging for death.” He took another sip from his tumbler. “Hermione is a healer, one of the best in Britain.”

Oliver frowned. “She’s not old enough, she fled Hogwarts with Potter an’ Weasley, she never received her NEWTs.”

“She did actually. I’m sure you’ve heard of Hermione’s incredible intelligence. She knew that she would be needed in the war and that she would have a role to play. So, during her fifth year, I took her under my wing. I started to privately train her to become a healer with the help of some other healers at St. Mungos’. She secretly took her NEWTs her sixth year and continued to study the art of healing, when she was on the run she found a way to contact me and we made sure she was able to continue with her training. During the war, her training came in useful and she healed many. She helped at St. Mungo’s after the Final Battle. A month after the Final Battle, Hermione took her healer examinations. She didn’t have to do an internship because she had practical experience spanning nearly three years. She passed with flying colours, the highest scores to be seen in a century,” he said proudly. “She’s a private healer and has been since she passed her exams, she already has a good cliental list, a few high ranking Ministry workers, a fair few Quidditch players and a few Pureblood families. She’s done well for herself.”

Oliver stared in shock.

“Hermione’s like family, she’s like my little niece. She visits twice a week without fail. Hannah gives her advice about anything and everything. Hermione helps Karen with her research into Magical Law and she helps Mike brainstorm ideas for the Educational Department. She’s a part of the family. So yes, I know her.”

Oliver cleared his throat. “The Lioness has fallen,” he spoke, “Tha’s what ye said. What does it mean?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

“Are ye gunna tell Potter an’ Weasley?”

“No, this has nothing to do with them. They have a way of making everything about them. Hermione falls over, it’s Harry fault for not catching her or Ron’s fault for nudging into her. Hermione cries, it’s Harry’s fault for not protecting her from her nightmares or it Ron’s fault for saying something hurtful. She won’t want them to know. She won’t want anyone to know. This stays out of the press and away from the public, Hannah won’t even know about it. There’ll be an investigation, but it will be discreet. They won’t stop until the bastard that did this to her is either dead or dying in Azkaban.”

“A think there may be more than one attacker,” Oliver commented, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Why would you say that?”

“It’s Hermione Granger, War Heroine. Ev’ryone in Europe has heard af her talent with a wand an’ a temper tha’ matches.” Thomas’ mouth quirked into a smile. “It would be difficult tae get an advantage over her, especially if she has a dog bigger than a small bear an’ willin’ tae protect her. Not only did they get one over on her, but her dog tae. One person couldn’t do tha’. A doubt she even saw it coming, her wand was still in the waistband af her skirt, she hadn’t even tried tae remove it.”

Thomas frowned in thought. “You’re right,” he said in surprise. “Her injuries as well as Merlin’s support the theory of more than one attacker and I wouldn’t be surprised if they find more than one DNA sample on her,” he looked up at Oliver. “You’d make one heck of an Auror.”

“A’ll stick tae Quidditch, thank ye,” he said, Thomas chuckled. “Who would do this tae her?” Oliver asked with a sigh.

“I don’t know, but they better pray I don’t find out or I’ll kill the bastards before they even have a chance of going to Azkaban.” Oliver was taken aback by the anger on his face.

“So,” Oliver cleared his throat and decided to change the subject. “The dog, why is it so big?”

“He’s a St. Bernard,” he said, as if that explained everything and Oliver stared at him dumbly. “That breed of dog is muggle, they’re one of the larger breeds; they’re used in muggle rescue services due to their intelligence and kind nature. He was bred in our world, he’s affected by magic but Hermione doesn’t know how yet. He hasn’t shown any unusual traits yet, except he seems to have a great understanding of things and is quite intelligent. She bought him four months ago, he’s six months now. Hermione bought him for companionship, she loves him to death, she practically takes him everywhere with her.”

“Why did she call him Merlin? It’s a strange name fer a dog.”

“You’ll have to ask her, every time I ask she refuses to answer. I don’t think it’s for a serious reason, it probably just makes her laugh,” Thomas said a small smile.

Bobby popped into the living room.

“She is awake, Master Oliver.”

~000~000~000~

Hermione woke feeling groggy and she had a pounding headache.

_‘ didn’t drink that much, did I?_

Hermione groaned and felt the mattress shift; she didn’t need to open her eyes to know it was Merlin. She tried to speak but she couldn’t. She gripped the soft fabric of the quilt covering her, noticing that it was a lot softer than she remembered it being. Her bed, too, was comfier than she was used to.

She forced her eyes to open, blinking away the blurred vision. When her eyes focused she was in a room she didn’t recognise, a room bigger than her flat kitchen and living room combined. She started to panic as she looked around.

There was hardly any colour in the room; everything was white, obviously not being decorated yet. The walls were white, along with a soft-looking white carpet, two white armchairs and a glass coffee table sat in the corner of the room. There was a desk at the end of the room with a matching chair and two large bay windows with padded seats. There was a bedside table to the right of the bed and the bed itself was huge, king-sized. She noticed two open doors. One she could see was a bathroom, the other a walk-in wardrobe.

When the bedroom door was flung open Hermione made a fearful squeaking sound and tried to sit up. When Thomas appeared in the doorway, Hermione sighed in relief and looked at his sorrow filled face. She didn’t notice Oliver stood by the door.

“Did I drink too much?” she croaked.

He gave a sad chuckle. “No, Kiddo, you didn’t.” He walked into the room and over to the bed and helped her to sit up.

“What happened?” she asked again and he conjured a glass, filled it with water and she drank it down.

“We were hoping you could tell us. You were found in an alleyway, unconscious and Merlin was injured. I’ve healed you both,” he added quickly when he saw a look of panic enter her face and she looked at her dog.

“Hermione, there’s something I have to tell you.” She looked at him expectantly. “When you were unconscious I carried out a sexual assault test,” he said softly.

The implications of his words set a look of fear in her eyes, a fear that Oliver had never seen in a person.

“No,” she whispered and shook her head.

“Yes,” he said softly, he knew why she was panicked; she was the one who had broached the subject with him in the first place.

“But that means that...”

“No, it doesn’t. It wasn’t willingly given, that rules out all magical claim.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed. Oliver watched the two confused, especially when the look of panic faded into relief, but also sorrow.

“Please tell me you’re still on the potion,” Thomas said hopefully.

She nodded with teary eyes. “Took it last week.”

“That rules out pregnancy being possible,” he said a little relieved that it was one less thing to worry about.

“Who did this?” she asked with tears falling down her face.

“We’re not sure, but we’ll find out,” Kingsley said, as he walked into the room, followed by Jolkins.

“Kingsley, Jolkins,” she greeted.

“Hermione,” they replied softly.

“You know an investigation will be carried out whether or not you like it, right? And you will be pressing charges,” Thomas said. She scowled at him and went to reply. “No, you are pressing charges.”

“The press will never find out, Hermione,” Kingsley said, drawing her attention. “Neither Harry nor Ron will find out either, unless you tell them yourself.” She shook her head immediately. “Jolkins will be personally handling this, he will be the only one privy to this information. Your name will be kept out of all reports, though it does have to be filed, but no one will know it’s you. Anyone with even a remote possibility of connecting anything to you will be kept away from the investigation.”

“Hermione, we need to know what happened,” Jolkins spoke.

Hermione frowned. “I was at the bar waiting for Ron, he was two hours late and I decided to leave. I collected Merlin from the staff room and went out the back way to avoid everyone. I was walking back to my flat and then...” her frowned deepened.

“Then?”

“I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember?”

“No, I was walking back to my flat and then I woke up here.”

“Can I cast some diagnostic spells?”

“You think someone’s responsible for my memory loss?”

“I do,” he nodded.

Jolkins stepped forward and brandished his wand. He waved it and muttered under his breath, and barely a minute later and he stepped back.

“I’ve found traces of a Memory Charm, likely an obliviator, except it has been done poorly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that your memory may return to you. Not all of it, but bits and pieces that won’t make sense to you but they will be important. If you remember anything you have to tell us.”

“Yes, Sir,” she mock saluted.

“That’s my girl,” Thomas said chuckling. 

“That’s all for now, Hermione, we’ll leave you to rest some more,” Kingsley spoke and with that Jolkins and Kingsley left, taking Hermione’s torn clothes with them to be processed.

“I guess it’s a good thing they did obliviate me. I won’t have nightmares, I won’t have flashbacks of the attack. I know what they did to me, but it’s almost like it didn’t happen because I can’t remember it,” she said and Thomas looked at her sadly. “I’ll be fine; I’ve been through things far worse than this.”

“I don’t doubt you will, Kiddo,” he said softly.

“Can I go home now?” she asked Thomas.

“No, not only do you have a bump on your head that I’m worried about, you have been hit with a Memory Charm, there’s a reason they’re dangerous. Not only do they do damage to the memory, they may also cause swelling in the brain and damage brain cells if used incorrectly. As Jolkins discovered it _was_ used incorrectly. It’s not safe for you to be moved, using apparition, floo or port key. You have to stay here for at least three days.”

She sighed, being a healer herself made her an incredibly awkward patient, but she knew he was right. He taught her everything she knows and she trusted him with her life.

“Where is ‘here’ anyway?” she asked.

“Wood Estate,” Oliver spoke up and Hermione looked up to see him hovering near the door. Her eyes widened.

“What?” she whispered. “Why?”

“A found ye an’ brought ye here before a floo'd Thomas,” he said, giving her a sad look. “He’s me healer; a dinnae know he knew ye until he got here.”

“Well thank you for helping me, I know there’s nothing I can do to repay you,” she said, looking at him with sincerity and thanks written all over her face.

“Ye don’ have tae thank mae.”

“Yes, Oliver, I do,” she sighed. “Helping you scare off the attention of a drunken woman hardly compares to you saving me from potential death. Others likely would’ve taken advantage of me in that state. I’m lucky it was you that found me. So thank you, I’ll find some way to repay you, and I’ll be out of your hair in ten minutes.”

She pulled the blanket away from herself and went to stand. Thomas pushed her back down onto the bed and she scowled.

“I am not going to be a burden on Oliver. He has his own priorities and I am not one of them. I will not intrude on his privacy; I imagine he likes his privacy just as much as I do, so let me go.”

“It’s not safe, Hermione,” Thomas said.

“I don’t care, I'm not Oliver’s problem, I’ve already been too much of a pain for him.”

“Can a speak?” Oliver spoke.

“No!” Hermione and Thomas said together and he had to stop himself from laughing as they glared at each other.

“I am not staying here. I am going home!”

“Sorry about this, Kiddo,” he said before he cast a _Petrificus Totalus_ on her and then poured a Sleeping Draught down her throat. The last thing he saw before her eyes closed was a murderous glare.

“If you don’t mind, Oliver, I’m going to make a break for it whilst I’m still alive.” Oliver chuckled at him. “Don’t let her leave; I’ll be back tomorrow to check on her. I’m sorry that she has to stay here, but I can’t risk moving her.”

“It’s okay, this place is big enough,” he shrugged.

“I’d say, what does a twenty-two-year-old need with a manor house and three hundred acres of land?”

Oliver shrugged. “A like me peace, besides, a bought the property aff a widow who said it was tae painful tae live here withoot her husband, an’ a have somewhere tae practice when am not at the stadium.”

“Celebrities,” Thomas muttered. He clapped Oliver on the shoulder as he walked past. “Don’t upset her, and if you do, make sure she doesn’t have her wand in her hand. Mike learned that lesson the hard way, although as his father, I thought it was hilarious.”

“Why would a upset her?”

“You’ll put your foot in your mouth,” Thomas replied simply.

“A’ll have ye know am a gentleman an’ a was raised tae respect women.”

“That’s great, it doesn’t stop you from opening your big mouth though.”

“Tha’s it, am officially kicking ye oot af me house.”

“It’s a manor,” Thomas corrected as he walked away.

Oliver shook his head, before taking one last look at Hermione and her dog sleeping next to her. He saw her wand lying on the floor and walked over to pick it up, placing it on the bedside table, before he took one last look at her and left the room, closing the door behind him. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

**Wood Estate - Sunday 22nd November 1998**

Oliver hadn’t slept well; his thoughts and dreams had been filled of nothing but the witch currently resting in one of the spare bedrooms of his manor. He thought it strange that he would be the one to find her, to save her, as she had helped him fend off the attention of that drunken woman.

He was disgusted by what had happened to her. Who would want to hurt her? She was Hermione Granger, war heroine, one-third of the Golden Trio, she was instrumental in winning the war for them. Why would someone want to hurt her? And in such a violent and horrific manner?

He kept seeing her, she had looked rather beautiful when he had seen her in the bar, but when he found her, she looked so vulnerable, nothing like the confident and powerful woman he had seen at the bar defending him. Nothing like the photos he had seen of her in the newspapers, smiling, scowling, looking annoyed; it depended on her mood and the article that was accompanying the picture.

She was covered in bruises and injuries, had torn clothing and she was completely and utterly vulnerable in her unconscious state.

And she had been a virgin? That surprised him, given her celebrity status, the rumours and her beauty, but then again, you couldn’t judge a book by its cover. Her being a virgin made her assault seem worse.

When the news of her assault was told to her she had looked devastated, panicked, which was understandable, hell, he was devastated for her. But then she had that little chat with Thomas and her panic had turned into relief.

Who the hell was relieved at the news of rape?

He sighed, he couldn’t sleep anymore and so he climbed out of bed and decided that he would go for a fly around the grounds of his manor. He quickly headed to his bathroom, showered and dried and dressed in jeans, a jumper and a pair of trainers, before casting a Warming Charm over himself, he grabbed his broom and apparated out of the manor.

After an hour and a half of flying around the estate, the sun had risen and he decided it was time to head back. He flew back to the manor before apparating into his living room, rather than walking through the manor.

What he found had him both confused and amused.

Hermione was currently crawling along the floor as her dog, Merlin, was walking beside her, slowly and protectively.

He leaned against the back of his grey corner suite couch and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What do ye think yer doin’?”

She startled and turned to face him, she scowled at him and continued crawling, he noticed that she was heading to the fireplace.

“I’m going home; I will not intrude on your privacy or be a burden to you any longer.”

“Yer not a burden,” he spoke, shrugging. It was true; she wasn’t, he was actually a little curious about her.

“Nevertheless, I’m going home, not only do I have a case I need to research, I have no clothing and I really want to shower.”

“Yer cannae get home through the floo, yer not keyed intae the network, ye also cannae apparate since once again, yer not keyed intae the wards,” he spoke amused.

“Then key me into your floo network so I can leave and then remove my access or accompany me home,” she scowled at him.

“Thomas would kill mae; he said he’d be by this mornin’. Why are ye crawling?”

“I thought it would be fun, much easier than walking, it’s great for the knees too,” she said sarcastically.

He snorted at her. “Ye cannae walk, can ye?”

“Yes, I can, like I said, I thought crawling would be more fun.”

He smirked. “If ye can prove tae mae tha’ ye can walk, a’ll take ye home.”

She stopped crawling and turned to look at him, before looking at the fireplace which was currently five feet away from her. She sighed and she slowly pushed herself up onto her knees and then she stood up on her feet.

He saw her wobble and she took in a deep breath, she took a step forward, but he knew what was going to happen and moved over to her before she hit the ground.

He caught her, scooped her up into his arms and supported her, an arm hooked under her knees and the other around her back and he held her against him. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow and she scowled at him with her arms crossed over her chest childishly.

“Ye were saying?” he said amused.

“I can walk; I just stood up too fast and got lightheaded.”

“Nice try,” he spoke, before turning and walking out of the room and down the corridor that led to Hermione’s room.

He pushed the door open with his foot and entered, placing her down on the bed and he only just noticed her dog jump up onto the bed. She was scowling at him and he chuckled.

“Stay.”

“Woof!” she replied, he chuckled before walking out of the room and to the fireplace, he threw in some floo powder and called for Thomas.

“Oliver, I was just about to head over.”

“Tha’s good ‘coz a found Granger crawling on the floor an’ tryin’ tae make a break fer it. A told her tha’ if she could prove tae mae tha’ she could walk, a would take her home.”

“She fainted didn’t she?” he said knowingly.

“Almost, a saw her sway on her feet an’ a caught her befere she hit the floor, a put her back in her room, ye better get here quickly befere she tries tae leave again.”

He chuckled. “Alright, I’ll grab my bag and be right through.”

Oliver pulled his head from the fireplace and stepped back, Thomas stepped through minutes later and they chatted as they made their way to Hermione’s room.

“How’s she been?” he asked her.

He shrugged. “Sleeping, a was out flyin’ fer an hour an’ a half, when a returned twenty minutes ago a caught her tryin’ tae leave,” he said amused. “She wasnae happy aboot mae takin’ her back tae her room.”

“At least she didn’t use her wand against you, she can be very creative. I’ve treated people that have been on the wrong end of her wand,” he spoke amused. “It took me weeks to figure out how to counteract the hexes.”

“Okay, tha’s frightening.”

“That’s why I told you, now you won’t forget,” he smirked.

They stopped in the corridor when they saw Hermione once more crawling along the floor, with Merlin walking beside her slowly.

Thomas cleared his throat and Hermione stopped and looked up, noticing them watching her amused. She sighed.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Home,” she replied.

“You can’t leave yet.”

“I will not be a burden on Oliver any longer.”

“Yer not a burden,” Oliver spoke.

“You’re not a burden,” Thomas parroted and Oliver snorted as she scowled.

“I need to go home, Tom,” she spoke, “I have a case St. Mungo’s has asked me to review and I need to do some research, plus, I need to shower and change.”

His eyes softened. “Okay, walk for me.”

“What?”

“If you can walk for me, I’ll deem you healthy enough to leave.”

“Easy,” she scoffed.

She rose up onto her knees and used the wall to help her stand up, she supported herself before pushing away and she took a step forward. Oliver saw it coming before it happened and once again he stepped forward and caught her as she fell. He scooped her up as he had before, supporting her knees and back and holding her against him. She once more scowled and crossed her arms.

“Ye know, am not sure if yer doin’ this on purpose, throwing yerself at mae a mean,” he teased, before he remembered why she needed support in the first place and he felt awful.

She didn’t seem to mind his words and she scowled up at him.

“Very funny,” she muttered. “You’re just lucky I dropped my wand.” He felt himself relax at her words, glad that he hadn’t upset her with his thoughtlessness. “Put me down, I don’t care for being manhandled, and I’m heavy.”

He shrugged. “Naw, yer not. A’ve carried Quidditch gear heavier than ye,” he wasn’t kidding either, “what do ye weight, eight, nine stone?”

Her scowl deepened. “You should never ask a woman what she weighs, if you value your life that is, and I’ll have you know that I weigh the average weight for a woman of my stature.”

“Still, yer tiny.”

“I am not!” she cried indignantly.

He laughed at her; he threw his head back and let out the rich sound.

“I am average height for a woman, in fact, I’m slightly taller seeing as the average height is five-foot-five, and I’m five-foot-six, so you can shove your broom where the sun doesn’t shine.”

His laughter grew louder and his body shook, she shook in his hold and she was forced to unfold her arms and wrap them around his neck to keep balance, since he almost dropped her.

“If you insist on manhandling me, I request that you don’t drop me.”

“Don’ worry, a could never drop ye, like a said, a’ve carried Quidditch gear heavier than ye.”

“That’s comforting,” she muttered.

Thomas was watching them interact with a tilted head, his eyes missing nothing and a small smile pulled at the corner of his mouth before he nodded to himself.

“Right, Kiddo, bed for you, I need to run some more diagnostic checks and I need to check your leg.”

Oliver pulled himself together and followed Thomas to Hermione’s room, he didn’t register the fact that his hand was running back and forth on the soft skin of Hermione’s leg, where her shorts didn’t cover, and neither did she.

When he entered the room he put her on the bed and stepped back.

Thomas put his bag on the floor, put Hermione’s wand on the bed since he had picked it up and proceeded to go through the checks. It was ten minutes later when he was finished.

“Your broken wrist is completely healed, your bruises you’ll still have for a few days before they clear up, though they’ll get darker before they do, your cuts and abrasions have healed nicely, I’m still a little worried about that bump on your head, and your leg hasn’t completely healed yet, it’ll be at least a day before the break is fixed and at least a few more until your leg is strong enough for you to walk on it. Your leg combined with the bump on your head is the reason you are unable to walk, and you’re staying here until I’m certain you’re out of the woods.”

“I would be if you let me leave,” she said childishly, crossing her arms with a pout on her lips.

Oliver looked at her before realising what she’d done and then he burst out laughing, Thomas soon clicked on and he chuckled.

“You’re too smart for your own good.”

He picked up his bag and opened it up, pulling out a carry on case.

“I went out and bought you some new wash products and I put the spare clothes you keep at my house in here too, there’s enough to last you your stay here.”

“I hate you.”

“I would believe that if you were capable of hate,” he said fondly.

“Everyone is capable of hate.”

“Not you, Kiddo, there isn’t an ounce of darkness in you. You’re far too kind, loyal, caring, selfless and optimistic,” he spoke softly. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to check on you once more,” he kissed her forehead, scratched Merlin behind the ear and clapped Oliver on the shoulder, before leaving the room and they heard the fireplace roar to life before it went quiet.

Oliver cleared his throat.

“Do ye still want tae shower?” he asked her.

“Yes, I need to wash the reminder of what happened off me.”

He flinched. “Af course, but seeing as ye cannae stand, a suggest ye take a bath instead.”

“And how am I supposed to do that?” she looked up at him with a slight pout on her face and he felt his mouth twitch in humour, she looked rather adorable in her sulk.

“A’ll help ye.”

“I don’t think so!” she protested and he chuckled at her.

“Relax, Granger, a jus’ meant tha’ a’ll lower ye intae the bathtub in yer clothing, an’ a’ll leave the room, when am gone ye can magic yer clothes aff.” She looked at him thoughtfully. “When yer done, ye can drain the tub af water, use Drying Charms an’ then magic yer clothes on, then a’ll lift ye oot af the bathtub an’ bring ye back here.”

“You are not my slave and I will not treat you as such.”

“A know tha’, a want tae help ye.”

“Why?”

“It’s not ev’ry day a meet someone tha’ needs somethin’ from mae other than an autograph or an interview. It’s not ev’ry day a meet someone tha’ needs mae help.”

“So glad that I could be that for you,” she muttered.

“Tha’s not what a meant,” he sighed. “Jus’ let mae help ye.”

She groaned and flopped back onto the mattress and he knew she had given up. He smiled in victory and then waltzed into the bathroom.

The walls were grey with black tile flooring, the glass door shower was in the top left corner of the room and big enough for two, the sink and marble counter was on the right wall, a mirror covered the wall above the counter. There were place holders to keep wash products and the towels were underneath the counter in the cupboards. The toilet sat nearby and the large, white claw foot bathtub sat in the middle of the room, with a second tub, much larger and set in the ground, much like the one in the prefect’ bathroom.

“Bobby,” Oliver called, and he appeared in the room.

“What can Bobby do for Master Oliver?” he bowed.

“Bobby, please will ye run a bath fer Miss. Granger, she’s injured an’ so a will be helping her in an’ oot af the tub, but a will not stay during her bathing, a would like fer ye tae stay with her in case she requires yer help.”

“Bobby is honoured to do as his Master wishes,” he bowed once more before he clicked his fingers and the taps started filling up the smaller bathtub.

“Thank ye, Bobby,” he smiled.

He left the room to find Hermione hadn’t moved from the bed, but she was laid on her side, supporting her head as she laughed at Merlin, who was currently laid on his back with his legs in the air, his tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth and his eyes closed as Hermione scratched his belly.

He chuckled at the sight.

“Are ye ready?” he asked her.

She looked up away from Merlin and he noticed that several things were sat on the bed ready, soap, shampoo and conditioner, a hairbrush, a towel and clean clothing.

“I suppose so,” she sighed.

Oliver heard the taps being shut off and he walked over to Hermione, picked her up and then he moved her into the bathroom.

When she saw Bobby she turned a glare on him and he was confused.

“You have a house-elf!” she exclaimed.

“Aye,” he answered confused. “Bobby, he’s been in me family fer the last six generations, he’s been me personal house-elf since befere a could walk, he moved here with mae when a bought the estate, a need his help tae keep this place habitable.”

“How do you treat him?”

He would swear he saw a vein in her forehead about to pop.

“What kind af question is tha’?” he asked bemused. “A treat him as a would any other person,” he frowned. “He’s family.”

He felt her relax considerably and he vaguely registered her soft curves pressed against him.

“Do you pay him?”

“Obviously,” he rolled his eyes, “he’s been paid since he came taa me family, he gets days aff tae, would ye like tae see the rota he made fer himself?” he raised an eyebrow.

“No,” her scowl disappeared and she looked at him with an emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.... interest? Awe? Confusion? Admiration?

“What are his responsibilities?”

“He helps tae clean the manor, along with three other house-elves tha’ came with the estate an’ he does me laundry,” he shrugged. “A have twa other house-elves tha’ also came with the property an’ they tend tae the grounds, any more questions?”

“No, I think I’ve covered everything, nice bathroom,” she spoke, looking around.

“Thanks, when a bought the estate a had contractors an’ decorators in tae modernise the whole manor up, it was tae old-fashioned fer me tastes,” he shrugged.

“So you had no hand in the decorating?”

“Naw, am rubbish, a couldn’t paint a colour-by-numbers.” She laughed at him, a warm and pure sound and he felt himself smile in return. “A gave complete artistic control over tae the project manager, a jus’ looked pritty an’ nodded in the right places.”

“Glad to see you’re modest,” she snorted.

“Am one af Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors, a’ll have ye know,” he teased. “An’ look at mae, am practically a God,” he sniffed, lifting his nose in the air.

She looked at him dumbly before she giggled, and then it turned into a full out laugh, her eyes on the verge of tearing up. He wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not by her reaction.

“What’s so funny?”

She took a deep breath and calmed down. “I’ll give it to you, you are handsome.” He smiled smugly. “But I take points off for knowing you’re handsome, it’s all well and good being confident, but being cocky is the makings of an arsehole.” He scowled at her and she laughed at him. “Besides, Harry and Ron are both Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors too,” she shrugged.

“An’ from what a’ve heard, yer Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelorette, ye have beaten many an athlete an’ Pureblood heiress tae the title.”

“That’s not my doing, I hate that title, men are constantly hitting on me hoping to get something from me, to get their names in the paper,” she scowled. He knew that feeling.

“Right then, bath time,” he changed the subject and he walked over to the bathtub.

“Granger, this is Bobby.”

“Miss,” he bowed and Hermione smiled at him.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Bobby, please call me Hermione.”

Bobby blushed, his clay coloured and wrinkled skin reddening, his pointed and furry ears curled, his large blue eyes looked downcast, and he fiddled with the edge of his brilliant white pillow case and apron that kept his clothing clean.

“Bobby is honoured to call the Miss,” his voice shook. Hermione looked at Oliver and he shrugged.

“Bobby will be staying with ye in case ye require any help an’ so ye don’ injure yerself further,” he chuckled when she slapped his shoulder and scowled.

“Bobby is pleased to help the Miss. Hermione,” he bowed. “The water be ready for the Miss.”

“Thank ye, Bobby,” Oliver said kindly and then he lowered Hermione down into the water, not seeming to be bothered about the fact his jumper sleeves were soaked right up to his shoulders.

Hermione hissed against the temperature of the water and once Oliver was sure that she was in the water, he removed his arms and stepped back, brandishing his wand and drying himself off.

“Bobby, please find mae when Granger is done bathing.”

“Of course, Master Oliver,” he bowed and Oliver smiled at the house-elf.

“Enjoy yer bath, Granger,” he spoke, before waltzing out of the room, closing the door behind him and he made his way to the kitchen, he hadn’t yet had breakfast and he was starving.

His kitchen and dining room was large, very large, it was one of the reasons he had bought the manor in the first place. Not many people knew this about Oliver, only his mother and father really, but Oliver loved to cook, almost as much as he loved Quidditch, and being a chef had been his second career choice.

The flooring was white marble and the walls black with white and silver accents, the right wall was nothing but floor to ceiling glass windows, showing the view of the grounds, seeing as the kitchen was on the first floor. He had black marble countertops, white cupboards both on the wall above the counter and below the counter. He had a black kitchen island and breakfast bar, complete with a double sink and black leather stools surrounded one side. He had four ovens, all silver, three of them were built into the wall and the other sat in the gap between the countertop, giving access to the hob. There was soft lighting built into the ceiling and the kitchen and dining table was white with six matching chairs.

He went straight to the cupboards, seeing them fully stocked and he rummaged through his supplies, deciding what to make for breakfast, he was starving, no doubt Hermione was starving and he remembered her dog when he felt a nudge on his leg.

He looked down.

“Well then, Merlin, a bet yer hungry,” he spoke. The dog barked in response. “We’ll have tae get breakfast made whilst Granger’s in the bath then, bacon an’ sausage?” He barked, Oliver chuckled before cautiously giving the dog a scratch on the head and he went about pulling out the food and proceeding to make it.

When he had finished he put the food onto plates and cast charms over them.

“Does Granger drink coffee?” he asked the dog, he didn’t know why he had done that, but the dog didn’t bark. “Tea?” The dog barked, much to Oliver’s surprise. Oliver quickly put a tea bag into a mug and filled it with boiling water, doing the same for himself. “Milk?” the dog barked. “Sugar?” he didn’t bark and Oliver nodded, putting the finishing touches on the cups of tea, he moved everything over to the table, before putting a plate on the floor for Merlin, who greedily ate the food.

Oliver chuckled and sat at the table, but he didn’t eat, he was waiting for Hermione and he suspected she wouldn’t be much longer.

And he was right.

“Master Oliver, the Miss. Hermione is ready,” Bobby spoke when he popped into the room.

“Thank ye, Bobby,” he smiled at the house-elf and then stood and made his way back to Hermione.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Wood Estate - Sunday 22nd November 1998**

“Hoo are ye feeling?” he asked, walking into the bathroom, Hermione was lounging in the now empty and dry bathtub.

She was wearing black leggings, white converse and a black and red checkered shirt, she pulled her hair up into a knot on top of her head and she was free of makeup. It was odd, he had never seen a woman dressed so casual before, he was used to women dressing to kill and throwing themselves at him, literally dressing to kill, he didn’t know how they managed to stand in the heels they wore, let alone move in the tight clothing without killing themselves.

“Better thanks,” she gave him a small smile. “A bath is just what I needed, where’s Merlin?”

“Eatin’ breakfast in the kitchen, come on, a bet yer starving, anno a am,” he reached into the bath and picked her up, before leaving the bathroom and making his way to the kitchen. Her clean scent hit his nose, the scent of jasmine and lemons, an odd combination but they worked well together.

“You do realise that you don’t have to carry me, right? I can walk.”

“Naw, ye cannae.”

“Fine, I can crawl,” she amended.

He chuckled at her. “As amusing as tha’ is, a’d rather jus’ carry ye tae the kitchen, don’ wanna risk further injury.” She sighed but wrapped her arms around his neck for balance.

“What’s Merlin eating?” she asked him.

“A made bacon an’ sausage.”

“You cook?” she asked intrigued.

He shrugged. “Aye, growing up a spent a lot af time in the kitchen with the house-elves an’ they taught mae, though a have me own way af doin’ things an’ they used tae get mad at mae when a became auld enough tae use the oven by meself.” She laughed at him. He wasn’t sure why he had told her that, he had never told anyone that before. “What aboot ye, do ye cook?”

She snorted at him. “No, I have the special talent of burning water, melting plastic and setting fire to the kitchen utensils.”

He looked at her before he started laughing. “Ye joking?”

“I wish, I’m a rubbish cook, I can make one meal and one meal only, spaghetti bolognese, anything else and you’ll have food poisoning.” He chuckled at her. “I’m okay with breakfast food though, mainly pancakes, everything else I butcher, I can’t even cook toast without setting off the Fired Detection Charms.” He laughed. “No, cooking’s not for me, now baking, that’s my thing, I could stand in the kitchen baking for hours. Cakes, cookies, flapjacks, tiramisu, soufflés, cheesecakes, meringue, biscuits, brownies, crème brulee, muffins, you name it and I’ve baked it.”

“A havnae even heard af half af those things,” he commented.

She gasped. “Oh that is criminal!” she spoke in outrage and he raised an eyebrow. “That will have to be rectified, someday you will experience the wonder of a crème brulee.”

“If ya say so,” he shrugged.

“I do,” she promised.

He shook his head as he entered the kitchen and she looked around, a look of awe on her face and he smiled slightly. He moved them over to the table and deposited her down in a chair, she waited for him to sit and then she picked up her tea and took a sip.

“How do you know how I take my tea?”

“Merlin, he helped mae.”

She shook her head.

When they finished up breakfast Oliver picked up their empty plates and mugs and took them to the sink whilst Hermione slid off her seat and crawled along the floor with Merlin following her. She looked behind her to see that Oliver hadn’t noticed and she grinned and continued on her way out of the kitchen.

She had crawled into the living room and she took the chance to look around since she hadn’t yet. The living room was huge and done in light grey and white. Just like in the kitchen, one wall was made completely of floor to ceiling glass windows, giving a beautiful view of the grounds, the other three were light grey and the floor was white marble. In the middle of the room were two grey corner suites, facing each other, almost making a rectangle shape, and they had grey and white cushions on. There was a large glass table in the centre with a grey rug. A simple, but large chandelier hung from the ceiling in the middle of the room, the large white fireplace was on the right wall, a grey rug in front of it preventing soot from getting on the floor when people stepped out, and a large and expensive-looking clock sat above it. There was a small bar on the back wall, the cabinet filled with tumblers and wine glasses, along with elf wine, mead, fire whiskey and butterbeer and there were a few stools. There were no photos or personal items on display. All in all, the room was rather bare, but she supposed it wasn’t really used often.

“What are ye doin’ now?” an amused voice asked her.

She turned her head to see Oliver lounging against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“I’m getting out of your way, I’m sure you have things to do and I don’t want to distract you, you’ve already done enough for me, allowing for me to stay here since Thomas is an arsehole that’s put me under house arrest.” He snorted at her words. “I will not be a burden.”

He sighed. “Granger, yer not a burden, an’ it’s the last time a’ll say it. An’ naw, a don’ have anythin’ better tae do, it’s Sunday, me day aff, a’ve already been fer a fly around the grounds, now a jus’ relax until am back at training in the morn. Am not gunna let ye lock yerself oot af me way, ye are not in mae way, what kind af host would a be if a allowed ye tae do tha’?”

“You’re a pain in the arse, can’t I just wallow on my own?” she scowled.

His expression softened at her words. “Naw, ye cannae,” he walked over to her and picked her up off the ground, moving her over to the corner suite, he sat her down on one and then he sat down next to her, slightly further down, giving her room.

“Merlin, get down!” Hermione scolded when the large dog jumped onto the corner suite.

Oliver chuckled. “It’s alright, Granger,” he scratched Merlin’s head, no longer feeling anxious around him, seeing that he had a really sweet and playful nature.

“No, Oliver, it’s not alright, he could ruin the furniture even with magic protecting it, and this corner suite alone looks to have cost more than my entire flat.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t bother mae, tha’s what spells are fer, tae repair damage.”

She sighed and then flopped back onto the couch. He watched her as she ran her hands over her face tiredly.

“Do ye want tae talk aboot it?” he asked her softly.

“No!”

“Maybe it would help ye.”

“Look, Oliver, no offence, you’ve been great and all, really great actually, but I don’t think talking about what happened to me with you is going to help.”

“Why not? There’s only three other people tha’ know, Thomas, who ye see as an uncle, am a correct?” She nodded. “The Minister af Magic, who ye fought in battle with, correct?” she nodded again. “An’ the Head Auror af the MLE Department, but ye don’ want tae talk tae him, correct?” She nodded. “Ye aren’t gunna tell anyone, correct?” she sighed and nodded. “Tha’ jus’ leaves mae.”

She pulled her hands away from her face and looked at him.

“I can’t remember it, it might have happened, but I can’t remember it, and for that I am thankful, that means that I can forget it ever happened.”

“Ye shouldn’t ferget, ye were sexually assaulted, raped, tha’s a traumatising occurrence,” he said gently.

“My body knows that, my subconscious knows that, but my mind doesn’t and quite honestly, I prefer it this way. I want to live my life as normally as I can before my memory starts to return, who knows how it will affect me then?”

He could see her logic, but he didn’t want to force her to talk to him.

“Okay, a have a question.”

She looked at him again. “It’s going to be highly personal isn’t it?” she spoke with a raised eyebrow.

Yes, it was, it has been bothering him, why was she a virgin? She was beautiful, famous, had a respected job, and she was a war heroine, he guessed she had a lot of male attention, he just couldn’t see the reasoning.

“Aye, it is,” he agreed.

She sighed and then sat up, turning to face him and bringing her feet up and crossing her legs, this put Merlin between them and he was currently dozing.

“Go for it, it can’t be any worse than some of the things reporters have asked me.”

He watched her carefully. “Why were ye a virgin?” He expected her to blush, to splutter, to yell at him in outrage, but she didn’t. She frowned thoughtfully.

“Well, it’s not for the reason people think. I’m not against sex before marriage, I understand why people do it, they want to save themselves for the one they love, but the way I see it is, you can’t truly know if you’re right for someone if you don’t know them in body, soul and mind. Sex changes things, it can make things great or make things worse, it’s better to discover you’re not meant for each other before you say I do.” Her answer surprised him. “I’m also not a prude or a frigid bitch, despite what many of my classmates thought, I mean, I did date Viktor Krum after all.”

“Ye did?” he said surprised. “The Viktor Krum, Vratsa Vultures, Viktor Krum?”

She looked at him amused. “Yes, that Viktor Krum,” she laughed. “We dated for just over a year, but we broke up, it was fine with him being at Hogwarts for the Triwizard Tournament, but a long-distance relationship is difficult to maintain. In the end, we decided it was best to part ways, he was focusing on his Quidditch career and I was preparing for war,” she shrugged. “Anyway, Viktor taught me a lot, he helped me find confidence in myself I didn’t even know I was capable of possessing.”

“So why were ye a virgin?”

“Safety,” she shrugged.

He frowned. “Safety?” he repeated confused.

She nodded. “To protect myself, there is magic involved in sex.” He snorted. “I’m being serious, the Order of the Phoenix Headquarters was at a Black property that now belongs to Harry, you can imagine what the books in their library consisted of.”

“Illegal, dark, archaic?”

“Right in one,” she nodded. “When I was sixteen I found a book, I was curious and I started reading it, I was horrified by what I had learned. It was on sex magic, more specifically, virginal magic.” He rose an eyebrow. “For a witch to lose her virginity is a dangerous thing, you have to be sure you can trust that person implicitly, you have to trust them not to take advantage of the power you are giving them over you.” He looked at her like she was crazy. “Let’s try this a different way, what happens when a virgin witch has sex?”

“She loses her virginity,” he spoke slowly.

“Right, the hymen tears, what’s common in virgins?”

“Pain?” he guessed.

“Yes, and?”

“A dunno, a’ve never had sex with a virgin.”

She huffed. “Bleeding.”

A look of understanding crossed his face. “Blood magic!” he exclaimed.

“That’s it,” she waved her hands about excitedly because he had figured it out. “Sex magic and blood magic, they are powerful and dark. If a witch willingly gives up her virginity, the person that she gave it to has power over her, even more so if they bleed. That person has the ability to control you, to enslave you, to take your magic.” He looked horrified. “They say jump, you do it, they say kill that child, you do it, they say kill yourself, you do it. There is nothing you can do to stop it, it’s effectively a form of the Imperius Curse. Luckily this form of magic hasn’t been seen since the seventeen hundreds, there’s also a ritual involved. This is why, when arranged marriages were formed between old Pureblood families, they wanted the bride to be a virgin, so the husband could control her.”

“Logically I knew the probability of it happening to me was all but nil, but after what I’d learned, after what I’d read, it just frightened me and put things into perspective for me. And so, that’s why I was a virgin, I just wanted to make sure that I could trust my partner, it had nothing to do with being frigid or waiting for marriage or love, I was just cautious,” she shrugged. “But seeing as my virginity wasn’t given freely, I’m not at risk of sex and blood magic, which strangely is a weight lifted off my shoulders, even though what happened to me is horrific, but I trust Kinsley and Jolkins to find the person that did this to me.”

He stared at her.

“Besides, I still have some sexual experience,” she shrugged. “Any more questions? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“Naw pressure, a don’ doubt ye have people tha’ would kill tae be in the same position af ye bein’ honest with mae.”

She nodded. “Probably, I receive owls daily, requests for interviews, photoshoots, magazine spreads, things like that, I tend to ignore them.”

“So, what do a want tae know aboot Hermione Granger?” he spoke aloud with a frown.

“It’s hard now, isn’t it?” she smirked.

“Aye,” his frown deepened. “Yer’ve put mae on the spot.”

“Well, you better be quick, this hour of honesty wears off in ten minutes.”

“What’s yer favourite colour?”

She stared at him and then she started laughing. “What’s your favourite colour?” she repeated.

“A panicked!” he exclaimed, waving his hands about madly, causing her laughter to grow and she fell backwards, landing on her back on the soft cushions of the corner suite. He watched her before he started laughing too.

“Well, Mr. Wood, since you asked, my favourite colour is midnight blue.”

A smirk pulled at his mouth. “Ye do know tha’ Puddlemere’s main colours are yellow, white an’ midnight blue, right?”

“Are they?” Ahe wasn’t being sarcastic; he could tell she was genuinely surprised by what he had told her.

“Hoo do ye not know tha’?”

“I never understood Quidditch,” she shrugged and he stared in disbelief. “I attended every match to support my friends and Gryffindor, but in all honesty, I spent most of the time either confused or with my eyes shut since Harry was a nightmare to keep alive.” He chuckled, he was well aware of Harry’s bad luck in Quidditch. “I mean seriously, first year, a jinxed broom, second year, a jinxed bludger and his bones being removed from his arm by that idiot Lockfart.” He snorted. “Third year, dementors, fourth year was the Triwizard Tournament, fifth year, he was banned by Dumbitch.” He snorted again. “And sixth year, well, he actually won the cup.”

“A see yer point,” he nodded and she laughed at him.

“So, Mr. Wood, seeing as you know the answer to my favourite colour, which by the way, Harry and Ron don’t even know because they’re clueless to anything I tell them about myself, I think it’s fair that I know your favourite colour in return.”

He shrugged. “Midnight blue.”

“Twins,” she grinned and he chuckled. “Anymore questions?”

“A cannae think af any,” he sighed and she chuckled. “Can we have an honest hour in the morn? Then a have chance tae compile questions.”

She snorted. “You make it sound like an interview.” He chuckled. “Fine, we can have an honest hour tomorrow, it’s the least I can do seeing as everything you’ve done for me.”

“A havnae done anythin’.”

“Yes, you have, you rescued me, you brought me into the privacy of your home, which by the way is beautiful. You got myself and my dog medical treatment, you allowed me to stay the night, you refuse to let me leave and are making me follow Thomas’ orders. You helped me get to the bathroom, you made me breakfast and you fed my dog,” she spoke, her eyes were shining with gratitude and he found himself mesmerised by them before he shook his head.

“Anyone would’ve done the same.”

“No, Oliver, they wouldn’t have,” she spoke softly and with a shake of her head. “Others would’ve likely taken advantage of me, particularly if it was someone from the opposite side of the war that escaped a sentence in Azkaban. Anyone could’ve left me there to die. But you went above and beyond, you saved me, you’ve shown me more kindness in twelve hours, than anyone has ever bestowed upon me in my lifetime.” He was surprised by her confession. “You’re a good person, Oliver, you’re a hero, it’s people like you that make this world a better place,” she looked down at her hands and he just stared at her, no one had ever called him that before. Handsome, yes, brave, yes, but never a hero. 

He cleared his throat. “Am sure others have saved ye befere.”

“Not really, well, Harry and Ron saved me from a mountain troll in my first year, my second year, I as petrified by the basilisk, third year was a mess, fourth year I was put into an enchanted sleep and tied to the bottom of The Black Lake for the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Fifth year I almost died, sixth year, once again a mess, and the year on the run was a nightmare, I was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, I thought she was going to break me, I thought I was going to end up in St Mungo’s if she didn’t kill me.”

He stared.

“Ron was the reason I needed rescuing from the troll in the first place, he was the reason I wasn’t in the great hall, instead I was crying in the girl’s bathroom. I was revived from the petrifaction along with the other students, Mrs. Norris and Sir Nick, third year I travelled in time to save Sirius Black. Fourth year, I was at the bottom of the lake because Viktor had to find me, I was his task, he rescued me so he could win the task. Fifth year, I was given a lot of medical attention, not because I was me, but because I was Hermione Granger, Harry Potter’s best friend, he needed me to help get him through the war and so I couldn’t die. I was in a coma, if I had been anyone else, they wouldn’t have bothered. Harry and Ron rescued me at Malfoy Manor, but they didn’t arrive until after I had suffered hours under the Cruciatus Curse,” she shrugged. “No one has saved me because they could, because they generally wanted to help, so thank you, Oliver, truly, thank you,” she looked up at him and he felt his stomach knot at the expression she wore on her face.

Before he could reply she spoke. “Right, honesty hour is over, what do you want to do?”

He shifted in his seat and shrugged.

“Want to play a game?”

“What game?”

She pulled her wand and he only just realised that it was what was keeping her hair up, when she pulled it out, almost as if in slow motion, her mahogany curls fell around her face and spilt over her shoulders in a halo and he couldn’t tear his eyes away.

She waved her wand and a box appeared. She leaned over and put it on the table, before sliding off the corner suite, crawling around to the other side of the table and sitting down on the floor, she opened the box and he was surprised when she removed several differently coloured and sized boxes.

“These are muggle board games; I conjured them from my flat, want to play with me?”

“Okay, what are they?” he asked, he also slid off the couch and sat on the floor, opposite her.

“Monopoly, Snakes and Ladders, Scrabble, Checkers, Yahtzee, Guess Who, Pictionary, Cluedo or we have a deck of cards, in which we could play Poker, Blackjack, Jacks, Twos and Eights, Gin Rummy, Black Maggie, Snap, Bingo, Five Card Turnover, Crash or Go-fish.”

He stared at her. “Ye know hoo tae play all af those?”

“I do, I could teach you, they’re fairly simple once you get your mind around it.”

“Okay,” he grinned. He was a very competitive person, once he learned the rules of the game, he would play to win. She had no idea what she had just unleashed upon herself.

“Which first, boardgame of card game?”

“Err, boardgame.”

“Okay, Monopoly is all about buying properties and such with a few twists, Snakes and Ladders, we each have a playing piece and we take it in turns to roll the dice and we move along the board according to the number on the dice, if you land on a ladder you go up it, if you land on a snake, you have to go down, the first to reach the top wins. Scrabble is basically spelling. Checkers, a little like Chess only much, much simpler. Guess Who is simply a guessing game in which we have a series of photos in front of us and the other has to guess which one the opponent has chosen, through asking questions and elimination. Yahtzee, a game involving dice, Pictionary is a drawing and guessing game, but we don’t have enough players to play that game, that leaves Cluedo, it’s a mystery game in which you have to identify the suspect of a murder victim, the location and the murder weapon.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face. “Let’s start with Snakes an’ Ladders, it sounds like it’s the simplest.”

“It is,” she agreed, before taking the box and setting up the board and pieces.

It had long since grown dark outside, Oliver and Hermione had spent all day in the living room playing board games, only taking breaks for when Oliver cooked lunch and dinner and to use the bathroom, which was a little awkward for Hermione, but she was able to do it without needing Oliver’s assistance.

Merlin was still asleep on the corner suite, Hermione and Oliver were surrounded by wizarding sweets, Hermione currently eating a Sugar Quill and Oliver a Liquorice Wand whilst they played Monopoly.

“Ha!” Hermione exclaimed. “Mr. Wood, go straight to jail.”

He scowled. “A don’ want tae.”

“You have to, now get in jail and don’t even think about bribing the prison guard to slip you a Liquorice Wand,” she grinned, reaching over the table and taking his Liquorice Wand from him.

“Hey!” he protested, reaching over to take it back, but she batted his hand away.

“Nope, you’re in jail, you do not get Liquorice Wands in jail,” she said smugly. He scowled before moving his piece into jail.

“My turn,” she picked up the dice and rolled them. Double twos, she moved her piece, she rolled her dice again, double ones, she moved her piece, she rolled her dice, double sixes.

“No!” she cried and Oliver started laughing.

“Straight tae jail, Miss. Granger,” he said smugly.

She pouted, but picked up her piece and moved it next to Oliver’s. He leaned over the table and took her Sugar Quill from her.

“Naw, yer in jail, ye don’ get Sugar Quills in jail,” he repeated her words and she scowled and childishly stuck her tongue out.

“Mr. Wood, you may pay your fine or roll the dice.”

“Yer’ve had enough money oot oaf mae,” he scoffed, he picked up the dice and rolled them and scowled when he didn’t get a double.

Hermione picked up the dice and rolled them. “Yes! Double fives,” she cried and she started doing a weird victory dance with her arms and he started laughing at her. She leaned over and took her Sugar Quill back.

“Thank you, Mr. Wood,” she said smugly.

“Yer cheating, ye have tae be.”

“Nope, you’re just pants at Monopoly.”

“But a beat ye at Snakes an’ Ladders.”

“And I beat you at Scrabble.”

“Well a beat ye at Checkers,” he gloated.

“But I won at Cluedo,” she said simply.

“An’ a beat ye at Yahtzee.”

“And I won at Guess Who.”

They stared each other down, realising what this means, there were seven board games, and they were tied for three wins each, Monopoly would be the tie-breaker and decide who was the King or Queen of Board Games.

“It’s on,” they both said with narrowed eyes and before Hermione could move her piece, the clock on the wall above the fireplace chimed.

They both looked up surprised.

“Hoo the hell is it midnight already?” Oliver asked confused.

“I know, there’s no way we’ve been sat here for the last six hours without moving,” she frowned. They looked at each other and then started laughing. “See, didn’t I tell you board games can be fun?”

“Ye did,” he nodded. She picked up her wand and waved it over the Monopoly board and it glowed red. “What was tha’?” he asked her.

“A charm that will keep everything the way it is, we can finish the game tomorrow, and now you can’t cheat when I’m not here.”

“A would never!” he said in mock outrage.

“Tell that to juggings,” she snorted.

“Juggings is a real word,” he defended.

“No, it’s not, that’s why you’re pants at Scrabble,” she laughed, he laughed with her.

“At least a can count.”

“Okay, that was once.”

“More like five times; since when does five plus six equal thirteen?”

“Since now, obviously,” she replied, he snorted at her.

He looked at the clock and then sighed. “Come on, we better get some sleep, a have training in the mornin’,” he stood up.

“Merlin,” she called, he opened one eye to look at her. “Are you staying here or coming to bed?” he yawned and stretched before jumping off the corner suite and waltzing to Hermione’s room. Hermione tutted. “He’s already treating this place like he owns it.”

Oliver chuckled before scooping Hermione into his arms, she squeaked and quickly flung her arms around his neck, scowling at him.

“If you insist on manhandling me, a little warning would be nice.” He shrugged, not answering her. “Seriously, I can walk,” she huffed. “I hate being the damsel in distress,” she muttered and he chuckled.

“Ye cannae walk, so stop tryin’ tae convince mae tha’ ye can,” he placed her on her bed and then stood back.

“Good night, Oliver,” she spoke.

“Good night, Granger,” he replied, before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

**Wood Estate - Monday 23rd November 1998**

Oliver had always been a light sleeper; it didn’t take much to wake him and so when he heard the sound of crying echoing through the manor, it woke him.

He sat up groggily and cast a Time Charm, seeing that it was four in the morning. It didn’t take a genius to figure out where the cries were coming from and without thought he climbed out of bed and left his room. He always slept in only his boxer briefs since he got warm during the night and he didn’t bother putting on any clothes.

His room wasn’t far from Hermione’s, on the same corridor, in fact, when he reached her room the cries were louder, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Hermione was laid on top of the blankets and dressed in what looked to be a pair of leggings and an old t-shirt. She was laying on her side, facing away from him and Merlin was laid in front of her, she had her arms wrapped around him and she was crying into his fur.

He guessed the reality of her assault had finally hit her and to be honest, he was surprised it had taken her this long. He didn’t know what possessed him to do it, he hated crying witches; he didn’t know what to do and as a rule, he generally tended to avoid them, even his mother. But he moved forward and climbed onto her bed, laying down beside her but not touching her, he laid on his back with his hands behind his head and he looked up at the ceiling.

She didn’t acknowledge him, she didn’t speak and she didn’t tell him to leave. It was ten minutes later when he realised that it was cold in her room and so he shifted and pulled the blanket out from underneath him, pulling it over himself.

He continued to stare up at the ceiling, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know if he should say anything at all, and so he didn’t, he stayed with her, but it was almost as if he wasn’t there.

Almost an hour later Hermione’s cries died down to sniffles and she fell asleep, Oliver being exhausted, tried to move out of the bed so he could return to his own room, but his body was aching with exhaustion and so he fell asleep.

Oliver woke up, his wand buzzing letting him know it was time for him to get up and get ready for training. He opened his eyes and he almost yelled in shock but contained it.

He was in bed with Hermione Granger and he was currently wrapped around her, not the other way around, no, it was definitely him that was suffocating her in her sleep.

She hadn’t moved in her sleep, still clinging to the large dog, but it seemed Oliver had moved closer to her in his sleep, so close in fact that his chest was pressed to her back, his arm was thrown over her waist and pressed against her stomach under her t-shirt, his head was buried in the crook of her neck, her curls tickled his forehead and the scent of jasmine and lemons assaulted his senses.

He frowned at himself and then slowly moved away from her, grabbing his wand, he left the room and headed to his own to shower and dress. He left his room in his Quidditch training uniform, his bottoms tied and midnight blue, tucked into his black laced up boots, his thin jumper, midnight blue with two yellow stripes down his sides, on the right side of his chest sat the Puddlemere United logo, on the left side of his shoulder there was a ‘C’ signalling that he was the captain of the team, and on his back in white block capitals was ‘WOOD, 33.’

He didn’t understand why they were so bloody tight, sometimes he could barely move in them, but he supposed it was the owner’s doing, their way of drawing in more female fans by showing off the player’s athletic and well-defined bodies from their hard work and training.

He carried his broom over his shoulder, Universal Brooms Ltd had been working on a new broom for the last three years and they had finally been released after the war, though only to pro-athletes, they weren’t yet on the market for the public. In homage to the war, it was named The Phoenix, since the public had been made aware of what The Order of the Phoenix’s role was in the war. It was specifically designed for keepers, allowing perfect bursts of speed that a keeper needed to guard the hoops, the broom control was amazing, doing everything he wished without resistance and it had extra comfort charms on, the broom itself was sensitive, the slightest touch would take you left, or fly in a loop. It was the best broom he had ever flown.

He continued on his way to the kitchen so that he could make breakfast before he floo'd to the stadium. His thoughts turned back to the position he found himself in that morning, it unnerved him, drastically so.

Oliver was raised to be a gentleman, he was raised to respect women, he was raised to treat people with equality and kindness, and he did, but he wasn’t an overly affectionate person. He just wasn’t. The only people he had hugged in his life were his mother and father, that was it, no one else.

He had never shared a bed either, not even with his parents. Even as a child! He liked to have his space, he liked to be able to turn over in bed without risk of bumping into someone, he liked the ability to cocoon himself in his blanket, without someone nagging him for being a blanket hog, he liked that he could kick the blankets off the bed if he was too warm, without someone complaining it was freezing.

The fact that he had woken up, not only cuddling Hermione Granger, no, not cuddling, suffocating her in her sleep, was disconcerting to him. It was more than odd, it was a paradox.

The smell of food hit him when he walked through the living room and brought him out of his thoughts. When he entered the kitchen he was surprised to see Hermione sat at the table levitating plates of food over before doing the same with the cups of tea.

She looked up when she noticed his presence.

“Good morning, Oliver,” she greeted, there was no evidence of her crying from the night before and he wasn’t going to bring it up.

“Mornin’,” he spoke, eyeing her carefully. “Hoo did ye get here?”

“Crawled,” she grinned and he shook his head at her. “I made breakfast.”

“Ye dinnae have tae do tha’,” he commented, moving over to the table and sitting down, giving Merlin a scratch to the head in the process.

“It’s the least I can do,” she shrugged.

“A thought ye said ye couldn’t cook,” he raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t, but I can bake, which means I can make pancakes, cereal’s an option too, but that’s about it for breakfast foods. Anyway, I made you chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Hoo did ye know where ev’rything was kept?”

“Bobby got everything for me when I ran into him, well, crawled into him,” she spoke and he chuckled at her, before taking a bite of the pancake.

“These are good,” he complimented.

She grinned. “Thanks.”

“Naw, seriously, they’re really good, a’ve never had the talent fer pancakes.” She smiled at him and he picked up his tea and took a sip. “Hoo did ye know hoo a take me tea?”

“Merlin, he helped me,” she repeated his words from the day before and he chuckled at her.

They ate breakfast together and when they finished, Hermione flicked her wand sending the dishes to the sink to wash themselves.

Oliver stood to leave. “Oh, wait a minute,” she said.

He stopped and looked at her curiously as she slid off the chair and crawled over to the kitchen island, which amused him. She pulled herself up and supported herself before she picked up a brown paper bag he hadn’t noticed, she held it out to him and he walked over to her intrigued.

“I made you lunch.” He faltered slightly, before continuing on his way towards her.

“A usually eat in the canteen.”

“Yes, but if their food is anything like the food they serve at The Ministry, it’s fatal.” He snorted. “Besides, it’s the least I could do. It’s nothing fancy, just a ham and cheese sandwich, a Cauldron Cake, I didn’t know whether you preferred apples or pears so I put one of each in and I also put in a few Liquorice Wands since you seemed to favour them last night, oh, there’s also a bottle of pumpkin juice too.”

He took the bag from her, shocked that she had gone to so much effort for him.

“Thank ye,” he said and meaning it. No one had ever made him lunch before, well, except house-elves or himself, she was the first person to do that for him and he looked at her thoughtfully, his head tilted.

“No problem, off you go, wouldn’t want for you to be late for training,” she shooed him with her hands, much to his amusement.

“Since ye cannae leave, what are ye gunna do today?”

“No idea,” she huffed. “Thomas should be here soon, hopefully, he’ll bring me the things I need to research my St. Mungo’s case, I said I’d hopefully have a treatment by Wednesday.”

“Do ye want mae tae take ye intae the living room befere a leave?” he asked.

“No, I’m alright thanks, I’ll just crawl.”

He shook his head at her, before scooping her up into his arms. She squeaked and scowled, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“What was the point in asking if you’re going to ignore my answer?”

“Jus’ tryin’ tae be polite,” he chuckled. “Do mae a favour, grab me broom fer mae.”

She scowled. “I know where you could stick it,” she mumbled, causing him to laugh, but she picked up his broom from the kitchen island and he walked out of the room with Merlin following him.

“Why do you insist on manhandling me?” she asked him, her head tilted to the side.

“It ruffles yer feathers,” he smirked. Her scowl reappeared and she huffed. “Here ye go, we have arrived at ye destination.” He put her down on the corner suite and stepped back, with the hand that wasn’t carrying his lunch, he took his broom from Hermione. “A’ll see ye when a get back.”

“I’ll be here,” she sighed, “it’s not like I can make a run for it, crawl maybe but I’d get lost and likely never make it past the front door before you get back.”

He snorted. “Probably,” he agreed, before turning and heading to the fireplace. “Don’ even think aboot cheating at Monopoly!” he called over his shoulder.

Her huff of outrage was the last thing he heard before the green flames surrounded him.

~000~000~000~

Oliver was pissed. He was well and truly in a foul mood, once again, training had gone awful, worse than it had on Saturday and he didn’t even think that was possible. He was wound up, he could feel his whole body filled with tension and stress, not even the hot water of a shower helped to calm him. And his back ached, during his yelled lecture to one of his starting chasers, Pallie, one of his starting beaters, Kings, failed to block a bludger and it collided with Oliver, right between the shoulders, he only just managed to stay on his broom. He had seen the team healer and there was no damage except for the large bludger shaped bruise.

He walked out of the locker room, his hair still damp from his shower, he gripped his broom tightly in annoyance when he heard the team pissing about, and he took a deep breath before walking to the fireplace.

It was only Monday and once again, he needed a Calming Draught, a shag, or a drink.

He stepped out of the floo and the smell of food once again hit his senses, it confused him, confusion masking his anger and annoyance for a small moment, before realising that he had forgotten about Hermione.

Well, that ruled out a shag, there was no way in hell he was bringing a witch back to the privacy of his home, especially when it would be a one night stand, and there was no way he was leaving Hermione on her own during the night; she would probably injure herself further if he wasn’t there to watch over her. That just left a drink or Calming Draught, what the hell, he’d have the drink.

He walked over to the bar, depositing his broom on it and he grabbed a tumbler before filling it with fire whiskey and he took it with him to the kitchen, rolling his shoulders on the way.

His eyes caught the Monopoly board and the other board games on the table and he felt a smile tug at his mouth, his irritation diminishing slightly.

“Ye said ye couldn’t cook,” he spoke, leaning against the door frame, at which Hermione was leaning against the counter and dishing food onto plates.

She gave a yelp of surprise and quickly gripped the counter to stop herself from falling.

“Bloody hell, Oliver, don’t do that to me,” she hissed and he smirked. “You scared the hell out of me,” she huffed. “And as I have said before, I can only cook one meal, spaghetti bolognese, which coincidentally, you had the ingredients for and so I made you dinner.”

“Breakfast, lunch, dinner,” he listed off, “A guy could get used tae this treatment.”

“Well don’t, lunch is easy enough to make, breakfast is a limited choice of pancakes and cereal, dinner’s only two options, spaghetti bolognese or food poisoning.”

He chuckled at her before walking into the kitchen and over to her, he placed his fire whiskey on the table on the way.

He picked up the plates and moved them over to the table before going back over to her and she grated some cheese into a bowl. When she was done he picked her up and moved her to the table and she scowled at him, whilst he smirked. He took his seat and after scratching Merlin behind the ears, they started eating their meal.

“So, what did Thomas say?” Oliver asked her.

She shrugged. “The same as yesterday, except my leg's healed, but I still need a few days before I can walk on it properly and the bump on my head isn’t as troubling since its size has decreased. Thankfully, Thomas brought me the books I needed and I found the treatment for the case St. Mungo’s sent me.”

“What was it?” he asked curiously.

“Rheumatism.”

“What?”

“Rheumatism, it’s generally a muggle ailment, it’s not seen very often in magical folk. It’s basically inflammation that causes pain in the joints, connective tissue or muscles, generally, it affects the elderly. Since most healers at St. Mungo’s were born and raised in the Wizarding World, they’re not aware of muggle ailments, and therefore they couldn’t be sure what the symptoms of the patient pointed to, nor could they treat them. Treatment is basically a Pain Potion, a Numbing Cream and an Anti-Inflammation Potion, it should clear up in a couple of days, well, once I figure out a way to send in my diagnosis that is.”

He just stared at her before clearing his throat. “A have an owl ye could use,” he offered. She looked up at him.

“Really?”

“Hmm, ye can send aff a letter later.”

“Thank you,” she smiled and he smiled back. “So, how did training go?” she asked him.

Being reminded of training brought his annoyance back and she saw it on his face and she winced.

“That good, huh?”

“Tha’ good,” he confirmed. He ran his hand through his hair in irritation and Hermione giggled when it stood up at odd angles.

“What’s the problem?” she put her fork down and leaned forward, giving him her full attention.

He huffed. “Well, Malloy’s a tosspot tha’ cannae stop looking at himself ev’ry time he flies past a reflective surface. Kings doesn’t listen tae instructions an’ Wilks keeps falling aff his broom. Pallie, Bishop an’ Malloy aren’t working tagether an’ Thompson has the attention span af a goldfish. They aren’t picking up the plays, aI mean, the Porskoff Ploy, the Woollongong Shimmy an’ the Finbourgh Flick, they’re the three simplest plays in Quidditch,” he looked up at her to see that she had a completely blank look on her face; she was just blinking at him.

“Ye have no idea what am talkin’ aboot, do ye?”

“Not a clue,” she said shamelessly. “Did you lapse into a different language?”

He looked at her before he started chuckling, which quickly turned into a laugh.

“Okay, the Porskoff Ploy is when a chaser flies upwards an’ throws the quaffle doon tae the chaser below.” She nodded. “The Woolongong Shimmy is a chaser flying in a zig-zag motion tae confuse the opposing chasers.” She nodded. “An’ the Finbourgh Flick is a chaser using their broom tae hit the quaffle.”

“Oh, okay, that’s simple enough to understand, the Wollingongs...”

He chuckled at her.

“Woolongong?”

“That’s what I said, Wololingings...”

He laughed.

“Wool...”

“Wool...” she repeated.

“Ong...”

“Ong...” she repeated.

“Ong... Woolongong.”

“Ong... Wolingongs,” she said and he burst out laughing. “Oh shut up,” she huffed. “My point is, that play seems simple enough so why can’t your chasers get it down?”

“A dunno, a dunno if they’re doin’ it tae mess with mae, tae piss mae aff or if they honestly cannae do it,” he sighed.

“Maybe it’s the broom,” she shrugged.

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. “What makes ye say tha’?” he asked curiously. 

“Well, I know nothing about Quidditch, even less about brooms, but from my understanding, brooms are magical objects, magical objects that aren’t built to last long term, the brooms at Hogwarts are a testament to that. And I also remember Harry saying something about a broom needing to be replaced every four years since they tend to lose their capabilities. So by my reckoning, the brooms may be on their way out, making it difficult for your chasers to physically control the movement of their broom,” she shrugged and he stared at her in something akin to awe. “But of course, I know nothing about magical sports and equipment,” she shrugged once more. “But just in case, find out when your chasers last purchased a broom, all of your players in fact; it’s unsafe for them to be flying them and one day they could just lose their magic and, well, splat! You’re dead!”

She looked up at him and noticed him staring.

“What is it?” she asked him.

He shook his head, a smile appearing. “Nothing.”

“Anything else bothering you about training?” she asked him, once more picking up her fork to continue eating the remainder of her food.

“Hmmm,” he hummed in thought.

She just shook her head at him and continued with dinner, it wasn’t long later when Oliver stood and took the dishes to the sink, before moving over to Hermione and picking her up before she even attempted to crawl along the floor.

She huffed but otherwise didn’t say anything and she wrapped her arms around him, he thought it odd that he now felt calm around her, after twenty minutes with her no one would be able to tell how furious he was when he left training. When he entered the living room she shifted her arms slightly, nudging his bruise and he winced and she noticed and narrowed her eyes.

“What was that?”

“What?” he asked innocently.

She pressed against his bruise and he hissed. “ _That_?”

“Nothing, jus’ got hit with a bludger during training,” he shrugged and regretted it immediately. He set her down on the corner suite.

“Shirt off,” she ordered. He looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Am sorry?”

“Shirt off, now!”

He smirked. “Now, Granger, if ye wanted tae get mae naked, all ye had tae do was ask.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oliver, what did I say about cockiness?”

“It was the makings af an arsehole,” he echoed. 

“Exactly, I’ve probably seen more shirtless men than you have, I grew up with The Weasleys, the twins were a nightmare to keep clothes on.” He snorted. “And I’m a bloody healer, so shirt off.”

“The team’s healer took a look at it.”

“Humour me,” she said with narrowed eyes.

He sighed realising she wasn’t going to back down and he quickly pulled off his jumper, he expected her to blush, she didn’t, in fact, she didn’t bat an eyelash.

She rolled her eyes as he stood there, likely expecting her to remark on his well defined and muscled chest, she didn’t.

“Turn around then,” she huffed. He blinked at her and did so. “Sit down, Numpty, you’re too tall.”

He sat down on the floor in front of her, she brought her legs up and crossed them and he felt her hand come up and she gently trailed her hand over his bruise, her skin was so soft, but it didn’t stop the hiss that left him.

She tutted. “What did the healer give you?”

“Nothing, he said it was fine.”

“Fine my arse!” she said outraged. “He should be fired!” he chuckled at her.

He heard her whisper something and he turned his head to see that a tub of white cream now sat in her hands.

“What’s tha’?” he asked. 

“I have a fair few Quidditch players as my patients, I see a lot of injuries such as this and so I created a concoction, it’s basically a Numbing Cream and Muscle Relaxant, I made it specifically for injuries caused by bludgers.” She gathered some cream and rubbed it into her hands. “This may feel a little weird,” she warned him.

She scooped up more cream before carefully dabbing it onto and around his bruise.

He hissed but after a few seconds, he sighed in relief when he felt the pain begin to ebb away. “How do you feel?”

“Better, much better.”

“Unfortunately you’ll have this bruise for a little while, please try and be careful,” she asked of him, screwing the lid back onto the cream.

She noticed him rolling his shoulders and without thought, she placed her hands on his shoulders and started to massage them, he slumped back against the couch and she chuckled.

“Why are ye doin’ this?” he asked, his eyes closed.

“It’s a habit.”

“Hmm?”

“I’ve been doing it since I was a child, I used to practice on my dad, though when I attended Hogwarts, Harry became the sole focus of my attention, he was constantly stressed and he had more knots than the boy scouts.” He snorted at her. “I’d give him back rubs a couple of times a week because it helped him to relax and focus. The night before his first Quidditch match was a nightmare, I had cramp for hours.”

He chuckled and it turned into a groan when she found a particularly large knot in between his left shoulder and neck and she applied more pressure, working out the aches and pains. His head flopped forward and she smirked.

“The year on the run, that was the worst, we were all a mess; I was giving Harry back rubs three times a day. I could barely hold my wand. Fred likes to take advantage of it too, usually when we all visit The Burrow for lunch, once a month. In fact, once, Christmas my fifth year and his seventh, when Mr. Weasley was in hospital, I spent three hours giving Fred a back rub, every time I tried to stop he would scowl at me and put my hands back on his shoulders, murmuring threats,” she laughed.

“But why are ye so good at it?” he mumbled, sighing, before groaning when she applied more pressure to rid another knot.

“Have you never had a massage before?” she asked him. “Even Harry didn’t have this many knots our first year.” He shrugged. “And in answer to your question, I went into the Muggle World and got a few lessons from a masseur so that I could improve my technique, I thought it would be good for my patients, not only does it help to relieve stress, but it encourages good blood circulation and the flow of magic around the body.”

She dragged both her thumbs up and down the nape of his neck several times and he gave a groan and she snorted at him.

“Shut up, it feels nice,” he muttered, he sounded like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

She continued working on his shoulders and neck, being mindful of his bruise in-between his shoulder blades. She lowered her hands when she was satisfied that there were no more knots, she skimmed past the bruise before dragging her hands down his spine and working out the knots that she found, with him letting out sighs, mumbles and groans.

“Okay, I’m done,” she spoke, pulling her hands back.

“What?” he lifted his head and turned to look at her. His eyes were drooping and she smothered a laugh.

“I’m done.”

He looked disappointed. “Naw, yer not, yer've missed me lower back.”

She rolled her eyes but conceded. “Fine, lay down for me.”

She slid onto the floor and he took the hint and happily jumped up, he sprawled himself out on the corner suite on his stomach. Hermione picked up a cushion and moved it so that he could rest his head on it, which he wrapped his arms around.

“Move over a little,” she spoke, patting his back to get his attention, he shifted closer to the back of the corner suite and she sat down on the edge beside him.

She brought her hands up and continued from where she left off at the middle of his back, she took her time working out the muscles, knots and the aches, changing the pressure applied to suit her. When she reached the small of his back she used her thumbs and pressed down, sliding back and forth to the centre.

“Merlin!” he groaned, it was muffled slightly thanks to the cushion and she chuckled when he shifted into her touch.

“You okay?”

“Awesome,” he sighed.

She continued massaging him for a further twenty minutes.

“Right, I’m done,” she spoke, pulling her hands away.

“Naw,” he shook his head in denial.

She laughed at him. “I can’t do this forever; I’ve already been doing it for over an hour.”

“A saved ye life, ye owe mae.”

She snorted. “Playing that card are we?”

“Aye, an’ am not ashamed af it either,” he held his hand out to her. “It hurts from having a death grip on me broom.”

“I thought professional Quidditch players were supposed to be tough,” she scoffed, but took his much larger hand in hers and began to dig her thumbs into his palm and he sighed. She took notice of the calluses on his fingertips, it was strange for someone as handsome as him to have hands like that.

“A am tough,” he defended weakly.

“You’re a big baby.”

“It feels good, sue mae.” She chuckled.

She continued with his hand for another ten minutes before dropping it, before she could say she was done, he turned over onto his back, put his hand behind his head and held out his other hand for her.

She rolled her eyes when he gave her a lopsided grin, which she had to admit, looked ridiculously adorable. She took his hand and gave it the same attention as she had his other.

In-between sighs and mutters, he watched her, his eyes glued to her face. She was completely focused on her task, her soft features had a determined frown on her face and her eyes remained on his hand, watching her movements.

Her fingers and thumbs tickled over his skin before applying pressure and taking away the aches of the day. He noticed how feminine and dainty, how small her hand was compared to his much larger one, her skin was soft, incredibly so compared to the calluses on his skin.

“The guy tha’ ends up marryin’ ye is a lucky man.” He didn’t know what possessed him to say it, it just came out. Her eyes flickered up to his and she gave him an amused smile.

“Hmmm, he may get massages and back rubs, but that’s the only positive, he also has to put up with my inability to cook, my temper, my obsession with Sugar Quills, getting his arse handed to him in every board game I own and my rebellious streak.” He frowned at her words but didn’t say anything.

“Okay, done,” she patted his hand and let go.

“Naw,” he shook his head. “A havnae felt this relaxed in as long as a can remember.”

“I’ve ran out of places,” she replied amused.

He looked down at himself and then back up at her with a smirk. He gestured to his abdomen and put his hands behind his head.

She sighed, was he challenging her? The rise of his eyebrow confirmed he was. She raised her hands and used both of them to do his left side first, meaning she had to lean over him to reach, he shivered when the ends of her hair tickled his chest.

She kept her focus on her task and he happily let her get on with it. Sometime later she moved to his right but stopped when she noticed a bruise, it was almost gone but it still looked painful.

“What’s that?” she gestured to the bruise, his eyes opened and looked to where she was gesturing to.

He shrugged. “Bludger, a couple af weeks ago, it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt.”

She sighed before prodding it. “Ow!” he scowled at her.

She found her cream before applying some to the bruise and then she proceeded to massage his side for ten minutes. He looked like he was asleep and so she brought her hands away from him. He made a sound of protest.

“Naw,” he groaned.

“I’m done.”

“Ye havnae done me feet.”

“No, I don’t do feet.” He opened his eyes slowly, before giving her his best puppy dog eyes. “No,” she said resolutely. “I’ve been massaging you for close to two hours, my hands are starting to cramp.” He frowned. “Besides, you said I could borrow your owl and we need to finish playing Monopoly, the title for King or Queen of board games is still up for grabs.”

That seemed to placate him. “Fine,” he got up and started to walk out of the room.

“Oliver!” she called, he turned around just in time to get hit in the face with his Quidditch jumper. “Get dressed, you’ll catch a cold.”

He snorted at her before walking out of the room.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 6

**Wood Estate - Tuesday 24th November 1998**

Early the next morning found Oliver once again waking to Hermione’s cries. As he had the previous day, he left his room in his boxer briefs, not bothering to put anything else on, and he made his way to her room.

He found her in the same position as he had the night before, except now she was wearing grey tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt. He laid down beside her, not touching her, once again he didn’t say anything but his presence there was known, he drifted off to sleep as Hermione’s cries died down.

His alarm woke him up and he found himself wrapped around Hermione in his sleep, her scent of jasmine and lemons invading his senses, her hair tickling his forehead. He frowned before carefully removing himself from her and leaving the room to ready for training.

He made his way to the kitchen wearing his training uniform, his hair still wet from his shower and his broom in hand. His eyes caught the Monopoly board set up on the table and he chuckled, they had played once again the night before and they still didn’t have a winner before they retired for the night, and so Hermione charmed the board to prevent cheating and they promised to continue the game the next day.

He entered the kitchen to see it empty, Hermione hadn’t made breakfast and he felt disappointed. He put his broom on the kitchen island before proceeding to make scrambled eggs, bacon and sausages; he made two cups of tea and put all the food and the mugs on the table.

He decided to check on Hermione and see if she was awake before he sat down for breakfast. He headed to her room and knocked on the door, before opening it.

He saw Hermione stood in the doorway to the bathroom and in clean clothes - blue jeans, black boots and a black blouse.

“Hey, jus’ wanted tae see if ye wanted breakfast,” he spoke.

She smiled at him. “I was just about to head to the kitchen.”

He rolled his eyes and walked over to her, she scowled but didn’t fight him when he picked her up in his arms and made his way to the kitchen.

“I am capable of making my own way there, you know?”

“Ye keep crawling ev’rywhere an’ ye could damage yer leg further.”

“Who is the healer here?”

He chuckled at her before setting her down at the table.

~000~000~000~

For the third practice in a row, Oliver stepped out of the fireplace and into his manor furious. Once again he had the need for a drink, a Calming Draught or a shag and remembering Hermione and knowing that he didn’t have any Calming Draughts, he chose the drink.

He headed to the bar, depositing his broom on to it before pouring himself a fire whiskey.

“Training not go well?”

He jumped before turning around, only just noticing Hermione on one of the corner suites. She was laid on her back with her head propped up by a pillow, her knees were bent and what looked to be a medical textbook levitated above her, whilst Merlin was half sprawled across her stomach.

He sighed, moving over to the other corner suite and he flopped down onto it and groaned.

“Naw,” he sighed.

“The same?”

“The same,” he confirmed.

“What about their brooms?”

“Ye were right, they’ve all had their brooms fer at least three years, a told them tae get new ones, they wouldn’t listen tae me.”

“You’re their Captain,” she frowned.

“Doesn’t matter, Quidditch players get very attached tae their brooms; it’d be like telling ye tae give up yer book collection,” he shrugged.

“Hmm,” she hummed and he looked at her with a raised eyebrow, but she didn’t say anything else.

He sighed and stood to make dinner.

“Where are you going?” she asked him.

“Tae make dinner.”

“I ordered in from Tom.”

“Tom?”

“The Leaky Cauldron, I pretty much get all my food from there, it should be here within the next ten minutes,” she shrugged.

“A would’ve cooked.”

“I know, but I thought you’d be tired and I didn’t want you to stand for an obscene amount of time having to cook, when I can simply place a floo call and allow you time to relax. I didn’t want to give you food poisoning or make you the same as yesterday, otherwise, I would’ve just cooked for you, so I ordered from Tom instead,” she didn’t look at him, she was busy reading her book and running her hand through Merlin’s fur.

He stared at her and he was slightly shocked by her thoughtfulness. He shook his head and sat back down, downing the rest of his drink and wincing at the burn, he leaned back and just watched her as she read, completely oblivious to the world as her attention was absorbed her book.

He watched the way she frowned, likely reading something she didn’t agree with, the way she nodded her head slightly as if she agreed and the way she tilted her head, looking thoughtful. A small smile pulled at his mouth, she was certainly an enigma. 

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” she spoke, bringing him out of his staring. She was still reading her book. “Thomas checked on me this morning, the bump on my head has gotten smaller and...” she nudged Merlin to get off her, she put her book down and stood up. He watched her with a raised eyebrow as she beamed at him.

He stared as she slowly took a step, followed by another, and another, she kept going until she had walked around the table and as she reached him, she fell down next him, her legs had been wobbling, but she had still walked.

“I can walk,” she beamed. He stared at her in surprise.

“Depends on ye definition af walking,” he teased, “tha’ looked more like hobbling tae mae.” She scowled at him.

“Shut up,” she mumbled and crossed her arms childishly. “Thomas said I should be able to go home soon, a day or two, depends on how my walking is when he checks on me tomorrow, soon enough I’ll be out of your hair and you can have your privacy back.” She missed the frown on his face since the fireplace roared to life and boxed up food was left in its wake.

She stood up and slowly made her way over to it, having to crawl halfway because her legs couldn’t take the distance. She picked up the food and made her way back over to Oliver. She pulled herself up onto the corner suite next to him and put the food on the table, taking it out of the box and handing his food to him.

“I didn’t know what to get you and so I ordered medium-rare steak, with potatoes and vegetables,” she shrugged, summoning knives and forks and handing them to him.

“Hoo did ye know hoo a like me steak?”

“I didn’t, I just guessed and hoped it was right.”

She turned and pulled out the food that was dog appropriate and put it on the floor for Merlin who was there in a flash, she chuckled before pulling out her food and eating the chicken, potatoes and vegetable dinner she had ordered for herself.

“Why hasn’t Tom asked for payment?” he asked her.

“Already paid, he has my vault information, buying dinner is the least I can do for you,” she shrugged.

“A’m not comfortable allowing ye tae buy mae dinner.”

“I can afford it.”

He sighed realising he wasn’t going to win and he dropped the subject. They ate in comfortable silence and when done, Hermione banished everything to the sink or bin.

Oliver sighed and his head thudded against the back of his seat, he ran his hand through his hair and rubbed it over his face.

Hermione watched him and his aggravated state and she sighed, before sliding off her seat and onto the floor. Oliver felt the shift and lifted his head to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Shirt off and lay down,” she told him, he looked at her confused before he understood and a smile tugged at his mouth. He sat up, pulled off his Quidditch jumper, dropping it to the floor before he laid down on his stomach, burying his head in a pillow.

Hermione chuckled at his eagerness for a massage, she sat on the edge of the corner suite, beside him, rubbed her hands together to warm them before reaching to his shoulders and she started to ease the ache in his muscles.

He sighed happily and hummed.

“Bloody hell, Oliver,” she spoke shocked. “How the hell do you have knots? I got them all out yesterday.” He shrugged. “How’s your bruise?”

“Fine,” his reply muffled by the pillow.

She prodded it. “Fuck!” he cursed and she smirked.

“Okay, so it hurts a wee bit,” she prodded him again. “Shit! Okay, a lot.”

She snorted at him, before summoning her cream and putting some onto and around his bruise and then going back to massaging his shoulders, moving onto his neck, then the middle of his back and down to the small of his back.

All the while he let out sighs, groans and shifted into her touch. She stopped an hour later when her hands were starting to hurt, she noticed that his breathing had evened out and she gave a chuckle.

“Bobby,” Hermione called softly.

“Miss,” the house-elf bowed after appearing in front of her.

She smiled at him. “Please may I have a blanket?”

“Of course, Miss,” he was gone only seconds before he reappeared with a soft, looking white blanket.

“Thank you, Bobby,” she spoke, taking the blanket from him, he bowed before leaving.

Hermione covered Oliver with the blanket before moving back over to the other corner suite. She laid down and proceeded to read her medical textbook.

~000~000~000~

It had long since grown dark outside, Hermione was a good half-way into her textbook, Merlin was draped over her asleep, there was not a sound in the room and the only light came from her signature blue-bell flames floating above her.

That was when Oliver woke, he gave a groan, before shifting, stretching his body out and then he lifted his face from the pillow and looked around with sleepy eyes.

He noticed Hermione reading her book.

“What time is it?” he yawned, his voice husky with sleep.

She snorted at him as he blinked, ridding the sleep from his eyes and he ran his hand through his hair.

“Almost ten,” she answered.

“Where did this blanket come from?”

“Bobby, I asked him for one and he brought one to me,” she shrugged.

“He answered ye call?” he spoke surprised.

“Yeah, why? Was he not supposed to?”

“Naw, it’s nothing, don’ worry aboot it,” he said, but when she looked at him he had a thoughtful frown on his face. “Hoo long have a been asleep?” he changed the subject.

“A couple of hours, you fell asleep during the massage, sometime when I reached the middle of your back,” she replied amused.

“It felt nice, a was relaxed,” he defended and she snorted at him.

“That was the whole point of me giving you a massage, you looked about as stressed as Harry our fifth year.” He rolled his eyes at her, before noticing the Monopoly board. 

“Ye wanna finish playing?” he asked her, gesturing to the table.

Her eyes followed and a smirk formed on her face.

“I don’t know, are you sure you can take losing?”

“A’ll have ye know tha’ am very good at winning, a’ve won numerous Quidditch matches, including the House Cup me final year,” he gloated.

Her smirk widened. “I won a war,” she said and he narrowed his eyes at her.

They both slid onto the floor on either side of the table and proceeded to continue the game from where they left off the previous night.

An hour and a half later, Hermione stood up and gave a dramatic bow and Oliver crossed his arms, huffed and scowled at her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she spoke with a snotty tone and an amused smile pulled at his mouth as she bowed once more. “As your Queen of Board Games, I accept the honour and the title.”

He snorted at her. “Ye only beat mae by one game,” he pointed out.

“True, but I still beat you,” she said smugly, before sitting back down and proceeding to clear the game away. “Well, it’s almost twelve, we should probably get some sleep.”

He agreed and before he could help her to her room, both she and Merlin were walking out of the room, though she looked to be struggling, she was using the wall for support and her legs were wobbling. By the time he reached her she was at the door of her room, they said their goodnights and went their separate ways.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 5

**Wood Estate - Wednesday 25th November 1998**

Oliver woke to his wand buzzing, letting him know that he had to get up so he could ready for training. Once again, Hermione’s cries had woken him during the early hours of the morning, and as he had before, he left his room to lay beside her before falling asleep himself. He woke up to himself wrapped around her, he frowned before quickly leaving her room and heading to his own.

Once he had showered and dressed, he left for the kitchen, upon entrance he saw Hermione moving plates of food over to the table, he noticed that she was able to walk better than the day before, but she had a limp and still seemed to be unsteady on her feet.

“Morning,” she greeted when she noticed him before she moved the mugs onto the table and she sat down.

“Mornin’,” he parroted, moving over to the table, scratching Merlin’s head in the process.

They ate breakfast in the comfortable atmosphere, before Hermione gave Oliver his lunch for the third day in a row, much to his surprise, and sent him on his way.

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

Oliver was sat in the canteen with the rest of his teammates, they were, as usual, being rowdy idiots and Oliver did his best to ignore them, unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.

“So, Captain?” Malloy plopped himself down in the chair next to him and Oliver looked up at him apprehensively.

The starting chaser had blonde shoulder length wavy hair with blue eyes, tanned skin and he stood tall at six-foot-two, making him the same height as Oliver. He looked at Oliver’s food with a tilted head, seeing that he wasn’t eating the disgusting food the canteen served like the rest of the team.

“Can a help ye with somethin’?” Oliver asked annoyed, when he hadn’t spoken.

Malloy was going to speak when an owl flew into the room, through the open window and landed in front of Oliver. The owl had brown and black feathers with white spots, a white-grey face and bright yellow eyes. He held his leg up for Oliver to remove the letter before flying back out of the window after giving him an affectionate nip to the finger.

That had been his boreal owl, Wilson, who he had purchased a couple of years ago. Oliver looked down at the letter he held in his hand, there would only be one person who would send a letter with his own owl.

He opened it and looked at the elegant and neat calligraphy on the parchment, he was right, it was from Hermione.

_Oliver,_

_I hope you don’t mind me using Wilson to send you this letter, but I didn’t have any other way of contacting you. Thomas has been this morning and he has agreed that the progress I have made is suitable, I should have my ability to walk without incidence back by tomorrow and since I can now walk -although with some limping and wobbling- he has lifted my house arrest, I’m free to leave._

_Not only would it be extremely rude of me to leave before you get home, I cannot use your floo and I have no idea where we are, plus, I’m not aware of the wards around the property, I will be out of your hair as soon as you get back._

_Thank you for helping me, Oliver, truly, thank you. You’re a good person and I wish you luck in your training and career, tell those idiot players that they need to buy new brooms, I may not understand Quidditch, but I do know the difference between a beater’s bat and the keeper’s hoops, which I suppose isn’t something to boast about, but at least I do know the rolls of the players, and thanks to you, I now know those three simple plays you told me about, the ones that you said your players are rubbish at and I’m not even going to try and spell them._

_Once again, thank you, I will never forget how you have helped me and somehow I will return the favour, you have my word._

_I’ll have a tumbler of fire whiskey ready for you since you’re likely to be on edge when you arrive back after training, but then I will leave, thank you for keeping my secret._

_The Queen of Boardgames and Merlin._

Oliver frowned at the letter, why was he upset that she was leaving? He didn’t know her, not really, they were barely friends, though she was the closest he’d had in a long time. She didn’t treat him like others did; she didn’t see him for what he was, a Quidditch player and one of Britain’s most eligible bachelors. She saw him as Oliver Wood.

The most he had done for her was brought her out of the cold and allowed her to stay with him. She had made him breakfast, she had made him lunch, she made him dinner and ordered food so that he didn’t have to cook, not to mention paid for it no matter how much he disliked it. She had given him company when most of the time he was by himself, she had helped him to relax and gave him treatment for his injuries, and she had amused him countless times.

He realised that he would miss her, he would miss her presence around the manor when she left, but she couldn’t stay and he knew that. His frown deepened.

“Bad news?” his thoughts were interrupted by Thompson, he was the starting seeker and stood at six-foot, with tanned skin, brown shaggy hair and dark blue eyes.

He looked up and noticed the rest of the team had gathered at the table during his reading of the letter from Hermione.

He didn’t answer them, he just stood up and left the canteen to go for a fly to help clear his thoughts.

He left his lunch behind and the letter on the table. Thompson picked it up and read it aloud for everyone, and by the end of the letter, they all had confused looks on their faces.

“Who the hell is the Queen of Boardgames and Merlin?”

“What do you think happened?” Bishop asked; a starting chaser who stood at five-foot-eleven, with pale skin, brown hair that curled at the tips and dark brown eyes. “What secret is he keeping?”

“Wait a minute, he said we were rubbish!” they rolled their eyes at Malloy.

“By the sounds of things, whoever wrote this letter has been staying with him,” Thompson said. They all looked at each other surprised, they knew their Captain and they knew he was a very private person; he wouldn’t even let them stay more than a few hours, never mind allowing a woman into his home.

“Maybe we should just ask him,” Pallie shrugged. Pallie was a starting chaser on the team, standing at five-foot-eleven, with short, dark brown hair, grey coloured eyes and darkly tanned skin.

“He won’t tell us anything,” Kings, a starting beater pointed out. He was one of the tallest players on the team, standing at six-foot-three, with curly black hair, brown eyes and lightly tanned skin.

“Well then, maybe we should pay a visit to the manor after training,” Wilks, the other starting beater suggested. Wilks, too, stood at six-foot-three, with bright red hair to challenge The Weasleys, dark green eyes and he was tanned too.

“There’s no point, according to this letter, whoever he helped is leaving when he gets home, I guess we’ll never know who it is or what happened,” Thompson spoke, the others sighed.

Oliver walked back into the canteen and pulled the letter from Thompson’s grip, glaring at him in the process. He went to open his mouth but the narrowed eyes Oliver looked at him with kept him silent, it seemed he was already in a bad mood, it wouldn’t be wise for them to wind him up further.

Oliver stormed out of the room with his broom in hand.

Training that day wasn’t pleasant for anyone.

Oliver slowly walked from the locker rooms to the floo, trying to drag out the inevitable, he had admitted to himself that in the short five days, if that, that he had known Hermione Granger, he considered her a friend, and he knew that she wouldn’t betray his secrets, he knew she respected his wishes and she never pried into his life, not unless he divulged the information himself.

He reached the floo within minutes, he took a deep breath and stepped in, calling out the address and dropping the floo powder into the grate. He stepped out of the floo and sure enough, Hermione was stood at the bar pouring him a fire whiskey. 

She looked up at his entrance and gave him a smile.

“Hey,” she greeted, walking over to him with the tumbler in hand, he noticed that her walking was better than it had been that morning, she had a slight limp and only wobbled occasionally.

“Just as promised,” she handed him the tumbler and he took it with a nod of thanks, downing it and wincing.

She raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t speak. He noticed that her carry on case was by the bar along with Merlin. She was ready to go.

She raised an eyebrow but took the tumbler from him, depositing it on the bar, shrinking down the carry on to fit in her jacket pocket and she picked up the lead that was attached to Merlin’s collar.

“A see yer ready tae leave.”

“Yes, I’m grateful for all of your help, but I need to get home, get back into a routine, get back to work so that I can work on putting what happened behind me, at least now I’ll be out of your hair,” she gave him a smile.

“What aboot the games?” he asked, gesturing to the board games and deck of cards still on the table.

“You can keep them, you could do with the practice,” she teased him and despite his mood, he felt a small smile pull at his mouth.

“A’ll accompany ye home, it’ll be easier than dismantlin’ the wards fer ye tae apparate.” She nodded with a smile.

She made her way over to him and Merlin followed alongside her and they all stepped into the floo, it was a tight fit but they managed.

Oliver held his hand out to her. “We have tae be in contact fer it tae work with ye,” he explained. She shrugged, taking his hand, he vaguely registered that it fit in his own hand perfectly.

“It’s alright, we have to be in contact for you to gain access to my flat too.”

“What’s the floo address?”

“Granger Flat.”

He picked up some floo powder and called out the address, dropping it into the grate.

~000~000~000~

**Granger Flat**

“Well, thank you, Oliver, I really appreci...” Hermione’s speech faltered when they stepped out of the floo and into her apartment.

The reason why was obvious, her usual pristine and well organised flat no longer looked that way. Furniture had been overturned, drawers lay empty and its contents covered the floor, books littered the floor, and the bookcases were empty, photo frames lay on the floor smashed with the glass scattered about dangerously.

His eyes flew to the kitchen, the cupboards were opened, the drawers were on the floor along with their contents, the kitchen table was lying on its side along with the four chairs. There were only two other doors, he guessed they led to the bedroom and bathroom.

Hermione still had a hold of his hand and her grip on him tightened. He felt her stiffen next to him and he watched as she let go of Merlin’s lead and pulled her wand, gripping it as if her life depended on it.

They heard a noise coming from another room and their eyes darted to it.

Hermione turned to him and motioned for him to be quiet, he was in the process of pulling his own wand when a figure stepped into the room from what he could see was the bedroom.

Their eyes went to the figure and he stopped when he noticed them. He had a duffle bag in his hand and he was covered with a black cloak, keeping their identity hidden. The figure’s eyes narrowed on Oliver’s hand held in Hermione’s and his wand came up. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with Oliver’s close proximity to Hermione.

 _“Organa Hirniosus,”_ the figure hissed, the bright orange light left the wand and headed straight for Oliver.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

**Granger Flat - Wednesday 25th November 1998**

Hermione’s protective and battle instincts kicked in. She couldn’t recall knowing or hearing of the spell, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out it would likely do some damage.

She pushed Oliver out of the way. Due to his surprise and him not expecting it, Hermione’s actions sent him falling to the ground, and cutting his hands on the glass in the process.

 _“Protego Totalum!”_ she called, casting the most powerful shield she could think of and the spell slammed into the shield. Hermione was sent flying backwards, crashing into the large mirror that sat above her fireplace.

Merlin was barking madly and he lunged at the figure, snarling viciously. The figure looked at Hermione before turning on the spot and apparating with a crack.

Oliver pushed himself up from the floor and looked at his hands, glass was embedded and blood was dripping down his fingers and onto the floor.

“Hermione, are ye alright?” he asked her, but she didn’t answer. “Hermione?” he turned to see her crumpled form on the floor, she was on her back and blood was beginning to pool around her.

“Hermione!” he yelled, getting up and running to her, dropping beside her on his knees. He ran his hands under her head and felt the warm liquid as panic overtook him.

“Bobby!” he yelled.

“Master...” Bobby gasped when he saw the scene.

“Get help now!” he ordered, Bobby was gone before he had even finished his order.

He sat beside her, holding her hand and waiting for help to arrive. Merlin moved over to him and Oliver noticed that he had blood on his paws, likely having cut them on the glass shards covering the ground.

“Merlin!” a voice whispered.

Oliver looked up in shock to see three figures standing in the room, looking around at the mess and then looking at Hermione. Kingsley, Jolkins and Thomas, he relaxed recognising them, but he didn’t remember hearing them arrive.

Thomas rushed forward and dropped beside Hermione, not caring for the shards of glass and mirror.

“What happened?” Kingsley rushed out, whilst Thomas was busy casting spells over Hermione’s unconscious form.

“She sent mae a letter at the stadium informin’ mae tha’ Thomas had cleared her tae leave. She waited fer mae tae get home since she had naw way af leaving withoot mae due tae the security measures on me estate; a accompanied her through the floo, when we stepped oot we saw the flat was like this,” he gestured to the mess before continuing. “We heard a noise an’ someone stepped oot af her bedroom an’ he was carryin’ a bag. They noticed us an’ threw a spell at us, before a could block it, she pushed mae oot af the way an’ cast a shield. She was thrown back intae the mirror an’ Merlin attacked the intruder before they apparated oot. When a spoke tae her an’ she didnae answer, a called fer Bobby tae bring ye here,” he rushed out, desperate to tell them everything quickly so they understood.

“You did the right thing, Oliver,” Thomas’ voice soothed his frantic state. “She’s lost a lot of blood, and broken her leg again, the same one in fact, though the bone looks to be shattered, so Skele-Gro will have to be used. She has glass embedded in her back, thankfully it isn’t near her spine and luckily she has none in her head, it’s just a cut that I can mend quickly, she should be fine in a few days.”

Oliver looked relieved. “She saved mae,” he spoke quietly.

“What spell was used?” Jolkins asked him, a notebook in hand, obviously taking down the details of the attack.

“A dunno, a’ve never heard it befere,” Oliver replied.

“Oliver, help me, I need you to hold her for me so I can remove the glass from her back and seal the cuts,” Thomas spoke.

Thomas carefully lifted her torso so she was sat up and Oliver held her as she flopped forward, leaning against his chest. Thomas made quick work of the glass and sealing the cuts.

“That’s done, I’ll heal her head wound and administer the potions and hopefully she should come around pretty quickly.”

He did as he said he was going to do and then took her from Oliver, laying her back down, this time with a pillow cushioning her head. He poured a Blood Replenishing Potion down her throat, along with a Pain Potion for her leg, which he would have to heal later since he didn’t have the right potion with him.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, seeing the blood on him. Oliver looked down and remembered his hands.

He held them out for Thomas and he quickly removed the glass and healed them.

“Merlin’s hurt as well,” Oliver informed him,

Thomas moved over to Merlin and lifted his paw seeing the blood and cuts, he checked all four paws and healed them, before pulling back and noticing that he had something in his mouth.

“What have you got there?” Thomas asked, taking hold of the black fabric in Merlin’s mouth, he let go of it and Thomas handed it to Kingsley.

“It looks to be a piece of clothing, that’s good, it could contain DNA evidence, we may be able to connect this person to the man responsible for the attack.”

Their attention was drawn to Hermione when she gave a groan and her hands clenched. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she blinked a few times, before noticing the four pairs of eyes on her, she slowly sat up with Oliver helping her.

“What happened?” she asked, sounding disorientated.

“We were hoping you could tell us,” Kingsley said gently. She looked up at him and frowned.

“Oliver brought me home because Thomas cleared me, when we stepped out of the floo I noticed the state my flat was in. I heard a noise and I pulled my wand, someone stepped out of my bedroom, he saw Oliver and I together and he didn’t seem pleased to see Oliver so close to me. He cast a spell, one I’ve never heard before and I didn’t like the look of it. I pushed Oliver out of the way and cast a shield and I was thrown into the mirror, that’s all I remember.”

“What was the spell, the colour?” Jolkins asked her.

“Bright orange in colour, I think it was something like Orginis Hiranus,” she frowned.

“ _Organa Hirniosus_?” Kingsley asked.

“Yes, that’s it,” she nodded. The Auror, the ex-Auror and the healer shared a look she didn’t like.

“What is it?” she asked frowning.

“That’s a dark curse, if you are hit with it, it will rupture every organ in your body and you will die a very painful death.”

She looked horrified before her eyes darted to Oliver and he paled; he knew that curse had been meant for him. If she hadn’t of pushed him out of the way, he would’ve died.

“The figure, what did he look like?” Jolkins changed the subject.

“It was definitely a man, I could tell when he spoke the curse,” Hermione answered, “he was wearing all black clothing, along with a black cloak and his hood was up so I couldn’t see his face.”

“What about his hands, did you see any marks or anything that will help us identify him?”

“No, he was wearing black gloves, so I didn’t see his skin tone either, if I had to guess though, I would say he was about five-foot-ten, maybe eleven.”

“Well, it’s not much but it’s more than we had before,” Jolkins said kindly.

“You realise that you can’t stay here, Hermione?”

She sighed, “Kingsley, this is the third flat I’ve moved into since the end of the war, I’m sick and tired of moving.”

“I know you are, but it’s no longer safe for you here, you have to move again.”

She sighed in defeat knowing they were right and they wouldn’t let her stay there.

“Fine, I’ll pack everything up and stay at The Leaky Cauldron until I can find a new flat.”

“Naw,” Oliver spoke suddenly, shocking everyone in the room. “Ye can stay with mae.”

“Oliver, I’ve imposed on you enough as it is.”

“Naw, ye havnae, ye can stay with mae, ye will be safe on me estate, there are only a handful af people tha’ know where a live. Thomas, the members af me team an’ me parents, tha’s it.”

Thomas gave Oliver a knowing look, which he missed, but Kingsley and Jolkins didn’t.

“Oliver...”

“Hermione, he’s right, you’ll be safe with him, no one will be able to find you,” Thomas spoke.

“The wards only allow access fer apparition fer meself, the floo – me parents, meself an’ Thomas, tha’s it,” he looked at her pleadingly. “Please, Granger, stop bein’ a stubborn hippogriff an’ jus’ stay with mae, it’s the best option right now.”

“Fine,” she scowled and relief that he couldn’t explain filled him. “But only until I find a new flat.” He didn’t comment. “What are my injuries?” she turned her attention to Thomas.

“You had a head wound which I have healed, glass embedded in your back, thankfully it didn’t do any internal or spinal damage and I was able to remove the glass and heal the cuts. The most problematic injury is your leg, you’ve broken it again,” he explained and she sighed. “Only this time it seems some of it has been shattered, I’ll have to remove the shards of bone and give you some Skele-Gro, this will take longer to heal than before. You won’t be able to walk for a week, maybe longer.”

“Fantastic,” she grouched. “I suppose I better pack everything up, you want me out as soon as possible?”

“An hour,” Kingsley confirmed. “We’ll have to comb the flat for any evidence. Before we do, you said he had a bag?”

“Yes.”

“Did it have anything in it?”

“You think he took some of my belongings?”

“I do, you know as well as I do that this guy’s a twisted fuck.”

Oliver looked confused at the conversation, he would make sure he got answers to the many questions he had from Hermione later.

“We’ll check your bedroom first whilst we search for evidence, we’ll move onto your bathroom, then the kitchen and finally the living room, once we’re done you can pack everything up and we’ll alert the landlord that this is a crime scene and must not be entered until we give our permission.”

“Alright,” she agreed.

Before she could even attempt to stand up Oliver had her in his arms as he stood up, holding her close to him.

She scowled. “We’re starting this again?” she huffed.

“Ye cannae walk.”

“I can crawl.”

“There’s glass covering the ground an’ a don’ think ye should be crawling with a shattered bone in ye leg, it could make it worse.”

“Who’s the healer here?”

“I am,” Thomas spoke, drawing their attention. “You know he’s right.”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, but she put her arms around his neck, being mindful of his bruise between his shoulder blades.

“Bedroom first?” Oliver asked, Kingsley and Jolkins nodded and Oliver headed in the direction of the bedroom.

Like the other rooms, it had been trashed, items littered the floor, the chest of drawers were opened, as was the wardrobe, the mattress off the double bed was on the floor with the covers and pillows, clothes littered the floor and photo frames had once more been smashed.

“Is anything missing?” Jolkins asked.

She looked around. “Oliver, chest of drawers,” she said, he walked her over to the chest of drawers. “Put me down please.”

“Ye cannae walk.”

“I don’t care, unless you want to look in my knicker drawer?”

He quickly put her down, once he was sure she had a steady grip on the drawers to keep herself upright, he moved back as she rummaged through each drawer.

“Oh come on!” she spoke exasperatedly.

“What is it?” Kingsley asked.

“They creepy bastard has my knickers!” she exclaimed.

“What?” Oliver choked in shock.

“He stole my knickers!” she repeated.

“Are you certain?” Jolkins asked.

She turned her head and glared at him. “Yes, I am sure, I am unsure of how many pairs I own, but I can sure as hell tell you that it wasn’t six, that’s all he’s left me, six pairs of fucking knickers, this drawer was full. I’m going to have to go shopping now,” she growled, slamming the drawer shut and looking in the next one. “Oh, for fuck sake, he’s taken some of my bras too, ten, he’s left me ten!” she slammed that draw shut, even more enraged and she looked in the final drawer. “Oh, how thoughtful, the thieving arsehole left me my socks!”

Oliver was both concerned and slightly amused, not with the situation, but with her enraged reactions. In fact, the whole situation worried him, why would a man steal her underwear?

“Hermione, maybe we should move on,” Thomas offered softly.

“Fine!” She looked inside the open jewellery box, noticing that most of the expensive stuff was still there, except for one thing. “My Grandmother’s ring is missing; I’ve had it since she died when I was ten.”

Oliver picked her up and moved her over to her wardrobe which was open, he noticed that it was bigger on the inside. He set her down and she steadied herself on the door, peering inside and using her free hand to move the hangers to see each item of clothing.

She sighed. “I can’t be sure what I’m missing exactly, but I have...” she counted, “fourteen empty hangers, they were all used when I left here on Saturday, they’re dresses and shirts, I also appear to be missing...” she counted again, “two pairs of pyjamas, three pairs of jeans, two sets of robes and two pairs of shoes. The tosspot is going to cost me a fortune in replacing my clothing,” she said in annoyance.

Oliver picked her up and they left the room, moving to the bathroom, whilst Jolkins checked the room for any evidence.

The bathroom was small and without colour, there was a toilet, a shower, a mirror, a sink, and a small cupboard, it was practical and simple. Hermione looked around.

“My hairbrush is missing,” she spoke, “so are some of my wash products, my soap, my shower gel and my shampoo and conditioner, Oliver, cupboard please.”

He moved them over to the cupboard and she opened it to reveal two shelves with bedding, sheets and towels stacked.

She appeared to be counting.

“I’m missing a white towel and two bedding sets and sheets, I think that’s everything in this room.”

Kingsley stayed behind to check for evidence and Jolkins finished in her bedroom and met them in the kitchen, Hermione quickly checked the drawers and cupboards.

“The only thing missing is my favourite mug.”

“The bowl?” Thomas said amused.

“It’s not a bowl, it’s just a big mug,” she defended.

He snorted. “Kiddo, it’s a bowl with a handle.”

She scowled at him and they moved into the living room, Kingsley joining them after finishing in the bathroom. She looked around at the photo frames on the floor, they were all facing upwards and she counted them, seeing that she was missing one, she quickly scanned them.

“I’m missing a photo frame.”

“What was in it?” Kingsley asked.

“Myself in Australia, I was on the beach with my parents in my bikini.” Kingsley gave her a knowing look.

“Anything else?”

“Books,” she told Oliver and he begrudgingly put her down on the floor, she sat down and scanned through the titles, that alone took her twenty minutes, judging by the amount she had.

“Out of the three hundred and twenty-nine books on my bookshelf, thirty-one are missing.”

Oliver snorted. “Ye cannae tell what clothes were taken, but ye know hoo many books ye own an’ hoo many were taken?”

“Yes, I also know the titles of those thirty-one books,” she glared at him and he shook his head at her. “I’m missing, Hogwarts a History, the latest two editions, I’m missing the unofficial biography of Harry Potter, I’m missing my copy of Moste Potente Potions, Advanced Potions Making...”

“Hermione, how about you write us a list?” Kingsley chuckled and she scowled but nodded.

“We’ll check the living room over, in the meantime, you can start packing the rooms we’ve already checked.”

“That’s fine,” she agreed. Oliver picked her up and took her into her bedroom.

With her wand she conjured cardboard boxes -which she had kept from her last move- and with a flick of her wand, all of her clothing flew into the correctly marked boxes. As did her jewellery, shoes, underwear, photographs and the duvet and pillows from the bed.

She smiled when she saw the old teddy bear on the floor and she summoned it towards her, looking at it lovingly before she levitated it into a box and sealed them shut. She shrunk them down and then summoned her trusty beaded bag, placing the boxes inside. Oliver looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“Undetectable Extension Charm,” she shrugged. “I used it during our time on the run, it still has all the supplies inside that allow you to survive in the wild, I can’t bring myself to empty it.”

They moved into the bathroom and Hermione conjured another box to put her linens and towels into, along with the few wash products the intruder had left her.

They moved to the kitchen and Hermione conjured boxes to pack away the crockery and cutlery, doing the same for the kitchen utensils, dog food and food.

He raised an eyebrow. “If I’m staying with you, I’ll be eating your food, this way I can put the food I have into your stores and it won’t go to waste,” she explained.

When Kingsley and Jolkins announced they were done in the living room, Hermione conjured more boxes and started packing up the books, which alone took up seven boxes, she shrunk down the charmed bookcases and she packed up Merlin’s things and the photo frames, she levitated one over to her and looked at it with a sigh.

It was a photo of her, Harry and Ron. It was taken after the war at The Burrow, they were stood by the lake and smiling as the sun shone on them. Hermione was stood in the middle with Ron and Harry on either side of her, their arms around her shoulders whilst hers were around their waists, except Harry and Ron’s faces had been scratched out, leaving only her.

“He’s done it again, hasn’t he?” Kingsley asked her softly.

“Yes, he has,” she said sadly, before putting the photo frame in the box and shrinking them down to put into her beaded bag with the rest of her belongings.

“Done,” she informed them.

“Aren’t ye goin’ tae pack up the furniture?” Oliver asked her.

“No, the bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, kitchen table and chairs, the couch, armchair and coffee table came with the flat,” she shrugged.

“We’ll speak to your landlord before heading to The Ministry,” Kingsley said.

“I’ll head back to Oliver’s, when I’ve tended to Hermione’s leg I’ll come by your office,” Thomas spoke and they nodded to him.

Oliver wasted no time in heading to the floo, determined to finally get answers from Hermione once they returned. He stepped into the fireplace with Hermione in his arms, he shifted her so that he could drop the floo powder and call out the address, he disappeared into the flames with Merlin and Thomas following behind them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 5

**Wood Estate - Wednesday 25th November 1998**

Oliver stepped out of the floo and took Hermione over to the nearest corner suite and placing her down onto the cushion, just as Thomas and Merlin stepped through. Merlin jumped up and sat next to Hermione, whilst Thomas kneeled down in front of her.

“You know the process,” he stated.

“Yes, I do, which means it’s going to hurt like hell,” she sighed.

“I’ll leave you some Sleeping Draughts so you can sleep through most of the pain, Pain Potions can only be taken twice a day when on Skele-Gro, hopefully, your leg will be healed by Friday, but as I said, it’s likely to be a week before you can walk again.”

“Why?” Oliver asked whilst Thomas set to work removing the shards of shattered bone from Hermione’s leg.

“We’re growing bone and because it’s new it’ll be soft and more susceptible to injury, like a newborn baby’s skull. I can’t put too much pressure on my leg otherwise it’ll just snap and we’re back to square one,” Hermione answered.

“Alright, I’ve removed the bone, Skele-Gro time,” Thomas spoke, “I took a detour home and grabbed a potion for you,” he handed her the potion and Hermione grimaced knowing that it was going to taste horrendous.

She pinched her nose and took a large gulp, quickly swallowing it and she gagged at the taste. “That is foul, worse than your cooking, Thomas.”

“Hey, there’s no need to bring my cooking into this,” he replied and she laughed at him. “How are you feeling?”

“I can feel it working already, but the Pain Potion you likely gave me when I was unconscious hasn’t worn off yet, so it feels weird, like pins and needles.”

He nodded and then turned to Oliver. “Don’t let her fall asleep for another three hours, I need you to watch her for me, she had a head wound and no matter the injury, the head is a vulnerable part of the body. If anything strange happens in the next three hours floo call me, if not then she can sleep.”

“Alright,” he nodded.

Thomas stood. “Well, I’ll be back to check on you in the morning.” He kissed her forehead, gave Merlin a scratch on the head and patted Oliver’s shoulder before heading to the floo. “I ordered food for you, it should be through in about twenty minutes,” he called over his shoulder before leaving through the floo.

Oliver looked at Hermione sadly.

“Will ye tell mae what tha’ whole situation was aboot? It was obvious tha’ it’s happened befere an’ The Minister said he thinks it’s the same person tha’ attacked ye.”

“Oliver...” she sighed,

“Naw, a think it’s fair tha’ ye tell mae ev’rything.”

She sighed once more, but this time in defeat. “Fine, I’ll tell you,” she agreed.

She pulled her legs up onto the corner suite and laid down on her side, Oliver walked over to the other one and sat down facing her.

“Bobby,” he called.

“Master Oliver,” he bowed, once he’d appeared in the room.

“Miss. Granger will be staying here, please unpack her belongings intae her room.”

“Oliver,” she scolded. “I can do it myself.”

“Naw, ye an’ a are gunna have a talk, stop tryin’ tae get oot af it.”

She scowled at him. Oliver picked up her beaded bag from the table and handed it to Bobby. Before Bobby could disappear and do his task, Hermione waved her wand, summoning her double blanket and a pillow from the bag. She covered herself with her blanket, almost like a cocoon, and she snuggled into it and sighed happily as she laid down and rested her head on her pillow.

“I missed my blanket,” she mumbled tiredly, her eyes closing.

“Granger, don’ fall asleep.”

“I’m not, I’m just resting my eyes,” her voice trailed off.

“Granger!” he yelled, her eyes flew open and she sat up looking around. She scowled at him. “Don’ fall asleep, talk tae me.”

She laid back down.

“After the war, everyone was healing, fixing their businesses, fixing up Hogwarts, spending time with their families and loved ones, the Wizarding World was coming back together. I had been secretly training under Thomas and a few other healers, but mainly Thomas, this lasted for close to three years. I knew that I had a purpose in the war, I knew that I would see people hurt and I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I wouldn’t be able to help them and I knew that healers were in short demand during times of war, since there’s too many causalities to keep up with. So, I decided I wanted to be a healer, to help people.”

“After the Final Battle, I spent a lot of time at Hogwarts’ hospital wing and at St. Mungo’s, helping wherever I could. A month Iater, I took my healer examinations. I didn’t have to do an internship or residency since I had practical experience spanning almost three years. Several healers from St. Mungo’s vouched for me, writing references stating they had witnessed my knowledge of healing, my healing capabilities and the number of patients I had treated, as did Thomas, as well as Madam Pomphrey, even Professor McGonagall and Lucius Malfoy Once it had been proven he was under the Imperius Curse, his opinion was credible. I had a total of ten references, eight healers, the Headmistress of Hogwarts and the head of the richest family in Europe.”

“Quite a résumé,” he nodded impressed.

She shrugged. “About a week after I got my private healing licence, I started receiving mail. That wasn’t unusual, I always receive fan mail, it’s directed to an office where staff reply to the letters for myself, Harry and Ronald.”

That surprised him, but he supposed it shouldn’t; they were the most famous trio in history.

“What was unusual was that these letters weren’t redirected, they came straight to me. I opened them thinking it was a letter from one of The Weasleys. It wasn’t. It was from a fan, I guessed to be male, at first he wrote about how much he appreciated what I did for the world. He wrote about how inspired he was by me, about how much my sacrifice had affected him. Nothing wrong with that, right?”

He nodded but frowned.

“That’s what I thought too, but the tone of the letters started changing, they became more personal, more obsessive. He started to talk about how beautiful I was, about the qualities in me he admired. He spoke about how lucky a man would be to have my heart. And then, it became more obsessive. He wrote stating that he was in love me, that I was his everything, his angel leading him to the light and away from the darkness. He started talking about how we were going to marry, about the children we would have, about Merlin having children to play with. That’s definitely when I knew something was wrong, by this point I’d only had Merlin for about a week, he was only nine weeks old. Only Harry and Thomas knew about him. How did this man know about my dog?”

Oliver’s frown deepened.

“The letters once again changed when I started dating, I had a relationship with Dean Thomas, he was in my year, Gryffindor,” she said and he nodded, he vaguely remembered him. “We kept it quiet, it wasn’t serious enough for it to be splashed across the pages of The Daily Prophet and blown way out of proportion. I hadn’t told anyone, not Thomas and certainly not Harry or Ron. The letters changed once more, he was furious that I had cheated on him, that I had turned my back on him, betrayed him. He said that he could forgive me, but Dean had to go. I broke up with Dean within minutes of reading the letter.”

He looked at her shocked.

“I was photographed with Harry and Ron on a night out, the next day I received a letter stating that he didn’t like how close I was to them, he didn’t agree with the relationship we shared. Now I don’t see them as much as I’d like to, just to keep them safe and he hasn’t mentioned them again. The letters stopped and I thought he’d left me alone. He hadn’t.”

“He broke into my flat when I was out, I had wards up only slightly more advanced than basic ones, and he’d broken through them. I packed up and moved to another flat. Bill Weasley is a curse breaker, I asked him to put wards up for me, he didn’t question me and did it. I was still receiving letters and that’s when I took them to Kingsley. He brought in Jolkins and Thomas was already aware that something was wrong. He broke me down until I told him everything.”

“About a month after that, my second flat was broken into again and all of my photos that had any males beside my father in them were vandalised, I packed up and moved. I asked Bill to put stronger wards up on my new flat, I knew he was suspicious but he did as I had asked and he didn’t ask questions. Harry, myself and Thomas were the only people to have access through the floo and only myself through apparition. Then I met you at the bar and I was attacked, we all suspect...no, we _know_ it was him. Today was the third time he has broken through my wards, though this time he not only vandalised my photographs, but he stole my belongings and my knickers, the creepy bastard.”

“It wasn’t enough that he’s ruined my life. It wasn’t enough that’s he forced me out of my home three times. It wasn’t enough that he’s the reason I’m afraid to leave the house alone because I know he’s watching me. It wasn’t enough that I can’t see Harry or The Weasleys as much as I’d like to. It wasn’t enough that he’s vandalised my property and stolen from me, no, the fucking twat had to rape me too, I could’ve died had you not found me, so could’ve Merlin because he wouldn’t leave my side.”

He could see the tears falling down her face, but her voice hadn’t wavered during her speech.

He looked at her softly. “A promise ye, he won’t find ye here, we’re not even in London.”

“Where are we?”

“Scottish Highlands.”

Despite her tears still falling her eyes lit up.

“Really?” she questioned and he nodded. “Can we see Ben Nevis?”

“Ben who now?” he asked confused.

“Ben Nevis, it’s the tallest mountain in the British Isles.”

“Well a don’ know aboot this Ben Nevis, but ye can see a mountain from the other side af the manor.” She looked delighted at the news. “We’re also in the Muggle World, a bought the estate aff a widowed muggle, whose husband happened tae be a Muggleborn an’ he inherited the estate from a rich great uncle or somethin’ like tha’, hence the house-elves tha’ came with the property. Yer stalker won’t think tae look fer ye in the Muggle World, let alone the Scottish Highlands.” She looked thoughtful. “An’ the estate already had wards up but when a moved in, a hired several curse breakers tae put up more advanced wards, there’s various around the estate tha’ a don’ even know aboot,” he confessed. “Not tae mention, naw one but Kingsley, Jolkins an’ Thomas know tha’ yer staying with mae. There’s four reasons as tae why ye are safe here with mae, a could probably come up with more if ye'd like.”

She shook her head.

“Ye are safe here, an’ a won’t let anyone hurt ye. Not again. A promise a will protect ye.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 6

**Wood Estate - Wednesday 25th November 1998**

“Why did you buy the estate?” she asked him. He could see that her eyes were drooping and so he answered her question to keep her attention engaged.

“The Muggle World is far cheaper than the Wizarding World, if a bought an estate such as this in our world, it would’ve cost mae triple what a paid in this world. Also, naw one would think tae look fer mae here, a’m a Pureblood wizard, born an’ raised in the Wizarding World, granted tha’ a don’ actually go oot intae the Muggle World seeing as a’m the only resident fer miles, but still, a Pureblood owning property in the Muggle Word is a very rare occurrence, almost unheard af. An’ a like me privacy, here a’m not at risk af fans finding mae an’ a have plenty af land tae fly over, tae train on an’ tae jus’ wander. A thought it would be a good place tae raise a family, when a eventually reach tha’ stage in me life,” he shrugged.

“A’ll give ye a tour when yer feeling better. Yer’ve only seen the living room, the kitchen an’ yer room. The manor has twa floors, this one is fer personal use, the floor beneath us is more fer guests with the formal dining room, the drawing-room, the kitchen an’ pantry, guest bedrooms, things like tha’,” he said and she hummed. 

The floo roared to life and food was left in its wake, Oliver stood, retrieved a few galleons and picked up the food which he took over to the coffee table.

“Granger, food’s here.”

“Later,” she mumbled.

“Granger!”

She bolted upright and scowled at him.

“Food’s here,” he repeated, pulling the food out from the bag it arrived in and handing it to Hermione, whilst summoning forks from the kitchen. “Eat,” he ordered, she continued to scowl at him but knowing he wasn’t going to allow her to sleep, she started eating.

After they finished with their food and the forks and rubbish were sent to the kitchen, Oliver could be found leaning back against the corner suite, still perched next to Hermione and she was once again laying down and cocooned in her blanket.

“Honest hour?” he said, “We never did do it again.”

“Okay,” she responded. “Go for it.”

“Favourite place?”

“Easy, Hogwarts Library, that was the only place where I wasn’t in danger, where I was safe and I could avoid the troubles of the war by emerging myself in books. I was alone and comfortable. I didn’t have death hanging over my head there, I didn’t have roommates being bitchy and I didn’t have Slytherins calling me every derogatory name under the sun,” she said quietly and he frowned at her answer. “Next?”

“Favourite food?”

“Don’t have one, I will literally eat anything you put in front of me, well unless it contains onions, I hate onions.” He filed that away. “Though I love Sugar Quills; I usually carry some with me, no matter where I go, they’re good to give to children too during treatment since it helps to calm them, as well as my patients that have low sugar levels.”

“Favourite book?” he asked, though he suspected he already knew the answer; he had seen her wandering the hallways back at Hogwarts with that book always in her hand.

“Hogwarts, a History.”

He was right.

“Favourite magical creature?”

“Thestrals, despite their affiliation with death and their dark and frightening appearance, they are the gentlest creatures I have ever come across.” He didn’t bother questioning how she could see them, after the war a lot of people had witnessed death.

“Why did ye never date Potter?”

He heard her make a sound of disgust which amused him. “He’s my brother in everything but blood, he’s my family.”

“Why did ye break up with Weasley?”

“We’re better off as friends. There were a lot of expectations for us to grow up, get married and have an army of curly redheads running around. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was expected of me, by the public, by friends and by The Weasleys. But I couldn’t do it, we’re not compatible. All we do is argue, fight and curse each other. There was nothing between us but friendship, we were taking the familiar feelings we had for each other and trying to force them into something it wasn’t. I couldn’t even hold his hand without wanting to laugh awkwardly, never mind do anything of a sexual nature. He’s not the person I can see a future with, whether it’s only a few months or the rest of my life. Ron’s my friend, just my friend.”

“I want a partner that won’t judge me on my past mistakes or achievements. That doesn’t want me for my fame or my money, someone that doesn’t care for who my friends are or who I associate myself with. I want a partner that will tell me the truth, that won’t lie to me, but to tell me what I need to hear without being mean about it. Someone that will be my friend and understand my relationship with Harry and Ron without getting jealous. I suppose any chance of me dating will have to wait until the creepy fucker that’s stalking me is caught, I won’t put anyone at risk. I’ll focus on my work and keeping myself to myself so that there’s no chance of him getting jealous.”

“I hate that he’s taken over my life. The war is over, I’m supposed to be free; I’m not supposed to be scared for myself or my friends and family.” He looked down at her sadly. “I need you to promise me something, Oliver.”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

“Quidditch is a perfectly safe profession.”

She snorted. “The injuries some of my patients come to me with say otherwise, and I didn’t mean in your career. Please be careful when you’re out in public. There’s a reason that curse was aimed at you and not at me,” she titled her head up to look at him, seeing that he was looking down at her with a look on his face she couldn’t decipher. “He saw you with me and that’s now made you a possible target, and knowing that you are one of Wizarding Britain’s most eligible bachelors, that means you’re well known, it won’t take him long until he figures out who you are. He’s a very possessive person, he tried to kill you just because you were standing next to me, if he ever found out I was staying with you, the crazy bastard would likely torture you. So please, be careful, you must always be on your guard, always be ready to apparate or throw up a shield. I could never live with myself if you were injured because of me.”

“In the last week I’ve grown to think of you as a friend, my friends are important to me and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to protect my friends and family. I can deal with him ruining my life, but the minute he even attempts to hurt you, I’ll track the fucker down myself and kill him.” Her soft features were set hard, determination and honesty set in her eyes.

Her confession did something to him, something he couldn’t quite explain, but his insides clenched and he felt a wave of affection hit him. It worried him.

“So, please, I don’t particularly want to become a murderer, please be careful.”

“A’ll be careful,” he promised her.

A relieved look crossed her face before she snuggled back down into her pillow.

“I’m tired,” she yawned.

“Ye cannae go tae sleep; it hasn’t been three hours yet,” he informed her.

She gave a sleepy grumble.

“Talk to me,” she requested.

“Aboot what?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, anything, talk to me about Quidditch.”

“Ye know nothin’ aboot Quidditch.”

“I know, so teach me, Harry, Ron and the rest of The Weasleys tried but I never understood a word they were saying, when you told me about those plays the other day, you did it in a way which I could grasp, it’s easy to talk to you, it’s easy to understand you.”

“Alright, ye know aboot the Finbourgh Flick...”

“A chaser uses their broom to hit the quaffle.”

“Correct, the Porskoff Ploy...”

“A chaser flies up and throws the quaffle to another chaser below them.”

“Correct, an’ the Woollongong Shimmy...”

“Chaser flies in a zig-zag motion to confuse opposing chasers.”

“Correct, another play, Hawkshead Attacking Formation, this is the chasers flying in a triangle formation, the result af this is tha’ it forces other players oot af the way, givin’ ye a path tae the goalposts.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Another is the Dopplebeater Defence, this is both beaters hitting a bludger at the same time.”

“It’ll double the force of the bludger colliding with a target, causing more damage and hopefully making the opposing team a member down.”

“Right,” he beamed but she didn’t see his reaction. “Ye cannae substitute players unless the match has been goin’ fer hours, we do have reserve players but they’re only put intae play if a player has been injured an’ cannae play during the next scheduled match, it isnae often they play a match the same day as a starting player gettin’ injured, ye jus’ have tae continue playing a player down.”

“Hmm,” she hummed tiredly. “Tell me another one?”

“The Wronski Feint...”

“I know that one, it was Viktor’s signature move, Harry’s done it a few times and he scared the hell out of me more times than I care to admit. A seeker takes a sharp dive towards the ground as if to catch the snitch, the opposing seeker sees and follows, but the seeker pulls up in time, whereas the opposing seeker crashes into the ground,” she explained and he appeared to be surprised.

“Tha’s right.”

“Another one?”

“Dionysus Dive, this is a chaser standing up on their broom an’ they jump aff it, punching the quaffle through the goalposts.”

She snorted. “Who would be stupid enough to do that? Call me crazy but I prefer my feet firmly on the ground and not falling two hundred feet to my death.”

“The referee is usually quick enough with a wand tha’ the chaser is fine, a couple af injuries but fine.”

“Well that makes it alright then, risking your life for a mere ten points,” she said dryly and he chuckled at her. “Has it been three hours yet?”

He looked up at the clock. “Naw,” he answered, she sighed.

“Tell me something else, tell me about fouling, I don’t understand those either?”

“There are seven hundred listed fouls, though the majority af them have never been shown tae the public fer fear tha’ it will give teams ideas,” he said and she snorted. “Ninety percent af fouls involve the use af a wand which is, af course, illegal, an’ the remaining ten percent af fouls are thought tha’ not even the dirtiest af players would use them. All seven hundred fouls were committed at the World Cup Final af 1473.”

“Bloody hell, they were busy boys,” she commented and he chuckled at her.

“Some af these included a chaser bein’ transfigured intae a polecat, the attempted decapitation af a keeper with a broadsword, setting fire tae an opponent’s broom, attacking an opponent’s broom with a club, attacking an opponent with an axe an’ the Transylvanian Captain releasing blood-sucking vampire bats from his robes.”

“Very creative,” she muttered and he snorted.

“But there are eleven common fouls seen in a Quidditch match.”

“Okay, what are they?” she asked, he smiled at her intrigue, he had never had to explain Quidditch in so much detail to a person before.

“Blagging, Blatching, Blocking, Blurting, Bumphing, Cobbing, Flacking, Haversacking, Quaffle-pocking, Snitchnip and Stooging.” She nodded. “Blagging first, Blagging applies ta all players, it’s seizing an opponent’s broom tail tae slow or hinder their flight.” Se hummed. “Blatching, this applies tae all players, this is flying with the intent tae collide with an opposing team player. Blocking, this applies tae beaters an’ chasers, it’s deliberately putting yerself in the path af the seeker, stopping them from catching the snitch. Blurting applies tae all players, this is locking broom handles with the intent tae steer the opponent in a different direction or aff course... Granger, ye awake?”

She hummed. “Blurting, what’s next?” she mumbled.

“Bumphing, this applies tae beaters, it’s hitting bludgers towards spectators,” he looked up at the clock and noticed it had been three hours, but he didn’t tell her that.

“Cobbing, this applies tae all players an’ it’s the excessive use af elbows towards an opponent. Flacking, this applies tae keepers, this is a keeper using any part af their body tae push the quaffle oot af the hoop, the goal post must be defended from the front only,” he explained, she hummed.

She lifted her hand out from under her blanket and held it up. “Give me your hand.”

“Why?” he asked, but still he gave her his hand.

She rested his hand on her head and snuggled back into her blanket.

“I have a headache, it’s your turn to massage me, it’ll help with the pain; Harry does it for me all the time.”

He shrugged, he started massaging her head through her soft and thick curls and she gave a sigh.

“Has it been three hours yet?”

“Aye, it has.”

“Good, I’m exhausted and the Pain Potion’s wearing off,” she said tiredly.

It wasn't long until her breathing evened out, but he didn't stop from massaging her scalp, and occasionally he played with one of her curls whilst she slept, feeling the silkiness of her hair against his skin whilst he pondered the strange turn his life had taken.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

**Wood Estate - Wednesday 25th November 1998**

“Master Oliver... Master Oliver.”

His eyes fluttered opened to find himself staring directly at Bobby and something tickling his forehead. He pushed himself upright, realising he’d fallen asleep and it had been Hermione’s hair that was responsible for the tickling feeling. He groaned at the ache in his back from sleeping at an odd angle.

“Master Oliver, Bobby is sorry to wake the Master, but the Master’s friends be here.”

Oliver rolled his shoulders and moved his neck from side to side before yawning and running a hand through his hair.

“It’s alright, Bobby,” Oliver spoke groggily.

“Does Master want Bobby to send them away?”

“Naw thanks, Bobby, a’ll take care af it,” he replied, before standing up and making his way through the manor and down to the parlour where he knew his guests would be gathered.

“There he is, our Captain,” Malloy called, opening his arms wide and gesturing about wildly, with a half-empty fire whiskey bottle held in his hand.

Oliver frowned, his eyes searching his teammates in order to guise how drunk they all were. Whilst the others appeared to be tipsy at best, Malloy was by far the drunkest of the lot of them, and it was evident by the way he swayed on his feet and struggled to keep balance.

“Captain? Captain? Did you hear me?” Malloy shouted.

“Shhh!” Oliver hissed, trying to quieten him down. With the manor being so big and empty, sound often travelled and he didn’t want to risk Hermione being woken. She needed her sleep.

“Why?” Malloy frowned. “Is there someone here? Someone you don’t want us to interrupt?” he asked, his eyebrows wriggling suggestively.

Oliver noticed his teammates perk up at Malloy’s question, not being subtle about wanting to hear his answer.

“Naw, there isnae anyone here but mae, but a’ve got a headache an’ yer not helping, so be quiet,” he lied, seeing the way everyone looked at him disbelievingly.

For Hermione’s safety, he couldn’t have anyone knowing she was there. He promised he would protect her and he would be damned if he didn’t do everything he could to keep his promise. 

“You’re lying,” Pallie commented, leaning against one of the armchairs.

“Am not,” he denied.

“You are,” Thompson nodded in agreement.

“This I’ve gotta see,” Malloy laughed. “Come out, come out, where ever you!” he shouted, and he stumbled over towards the doors that lead out of the parlour. “Come on, Love, we don’t bite!”

Oliver grabbed him by the arm to stop him from leaving and searching the manor; not only would he wake Hermione, he’d probably injure himself given his drunken state.

“Something you want to tell us, Captain?” Malloy asked with a raised eyebrow, seeing the less than pleased look on Oliver’s face.

“Am the only one here,” he said.

“Come out, Poppet!” he yelled again and Oliver’s gaze turned into a glare and his grip on Malloy tightened.

“What can Bobby do for the Sirs?” Bobby appeared in the room, bowing to the team and they all turned their eyes to Oliver.

“A told ye, a have a headache an’ a’m the only one here. Bobby’s had elf-flu recently, a dinnae want ye waking him up, he needs his rest,” Oliver quickly thought up. “Now, a think it’s best tha’ ye all get home an’ sober up, training isnae gunna be pleasant with a hangover an’ a have somethin’ special planned.” They all groaned. “An’ next time, a’d appreciate it if ye dinnae come by unannounced.”

“Why? It never bothered you before,” Kings asked.

“It does now, a’ll have yer access through the wards removed if ye do. Now, get out.”

“Alright, keep your robes on,” Wilks said.

He walked over to Oliver and took Malloy by the shoulder, guiding out of the parlour and towards the large doors with the rest of the team following behind him. Oliver followed after them to ensure they all left and he saw them out the door, before closing it behind them.

“He’s hiding something,” Thompson commented, looking over his shoulder back at the manor, as he and the team made their way towards the apparition point.

“Obviously, he’s a rubbish liar,” Bishop snorted. “But the question is; what is he hiding?”

“No,” Pallie shook his head. “ _Who_ is he hiding?”

~000~000~000~

“Thanks, Bobby, tha’ was good timing,” Oliver said to the little elf.

Bobby bowed. “Bobby knows the Master wishes to protect the Miss. Bobby like the Miss, Bobby will keep her safe,” he responded, before disappearing from view and leaving behind a surprised Oliver.

Oliver shook his head and made his way back to the living room, sighing in relief when he saw that Hermione was still sleeping peacefully and she appeared to have not moved during his absence.

He looked down at her, seeing her sleeping form cocooned in a blanket, her hair fanned out across her pillow and her breathing even and deep. He turned his attention to the clock sat above the fireplace, seeing it to be not long before eleven at night and he decided there was no point in doing anything but go to bed; he did have to be at training in the morning.

He looked back down to Hermione, before carefully pulling the blanket away from her and lifting her into his arms. She made a noise at being jostled but brought her arms up to wrap around his neck and he made his way towards her bedroom, hearing Merlin jump off the couch and follow after him.

The large dog nudged the door open for Oliver and walked in, sitting by the bed and waiting patiently. Oliver’s eyes scanned the room, seeing that Bobby had unpacked Hermione’s belongings and despite the furniture being the same and the room still remaining white, it looked completely different. It looked lived it. Hermione’s keepsakes and trinkets littered the room, her clothes had been unpacked in the closet, her photos littered the room and Bobby had made quick work of using his elfin magic to repair the damage done to them, and he’d even placed some on the walls. He didn’t doubt Bobby would’ve placed her books in the library, and he was sure Hermione would have an aneurism once she discovered the little hideaway.

Bobby appeared before him and Oliver looked down at him, seeing the little elf click his fingers and Hermione’s bedding resized to fit the bed, and it replaced the bedding that had already been there. Bobby clicked his fingers once more and a pair of folded pyjamas appeared on the bed.

“Bobby will ready the Miss for bed, Master,” the elf bowed.

“Thank ye, Bobby,” Oliver replied.

He placed Hermione down in the centre of the bed with her making a noise at being jostled again. He stepped back and scratched Merlin on the head, before wishing Bobby a good night and leaving to his own room, knowing Hermione was in good hands.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate - Thursday 25th November 1998**

“Mornin’, ye ready fer breakfast?” Oliver asked, leaning against the door frame of Hermione’s bedroom.

She looked up at him from her place sat on the bed and smiled at him, putting the book she had been reading aside. Oliver chuckled when Merlin jumped off the bed and dashed out of the room, making a beeline for the kitchen.

“Well, if I’m not, Merlin will have mine for me,” Hermione said amused.

Oliver chuckled. “A guess it’s a good job a made extra then,” he replied, moving over to her. He saw her about to protest to being carried but she snapped her mouth shut and instead allowed him to pick her up without argument. “What? Got naw witty comment?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She sighed. “Plenty,” she replied and he snorted; he didn’t doubt it. “But there’s no point in voicing them, you’re not going to listen to me and it would just be a waste of my breath.”

“It would,” he agreed. “So, hoo do ye feel aboot omelette and French toast.”

“I feel you spoil me,” she admitted.

“It’s nothin’ compared tae the pancakes ye made,” he shrugged.

“Well I’m glad you liked them; they’ll all you’ll be getting from me.” He snorted. “Luckily for you, you can make loads of different pancakes.”

“Such as?” he asked curiously.

“You sampled chocolate chip pancakes, but I can make you them with banana, peanut butter, chocolate, anything you want really, so at least you won’t be completely sick of them.” She brushed her hair out of her face and returned her arm back around his neck. “So, what’s the plan today?” she asked.

He sighed. “Training,” he grumbled.

“That sounds fun,” she replied with a wince. “Well, I wish you luck.”

“Am gunna need it,” he muttered. She raised an eyebrow but he didn’t elaborate further. When he reached the kitchen he placed her on her chair and they began eating.

Halfway through breakfast, an owl swooped into the room through the open window, dropping a letter in front of Hermione and leaving back out the window without a second glance.

Oliver looked to the letter, then to Hermione, seeing her pale face and her frightened expression.

“I didn’t recognise the owl, and I don’t recognise the handwriting either,” she said quietly, feeling his questioning gaze on her. She tore her eyes away from the letter and to him.

He looked back down to the letter.

“Do ye want mae tae open it?” he asked her.

She took a deep breath and nodded. He reached for the letter but she stopped him, pulling her wand and waving it over the letter.

“There’s no apparent hexes or harmful substances contained, but still, be careful,” she told him quietly.

He reached for the letter, looking at her name scribbled across the envelope before he tore the seal on the envelope, removed the parchment and unfolded it. His eyes quickly scanned the messy writing before looking over the top of the parchment at her, seeing her tense body and frightened stare.

“It’s from Ron,” he told her.

She visibly slouched into her chair and let out a sigh of relief before taking the letter from him, her eyes scanning the words the letter contained.

“Arsehole,” she muttered, before all but slamming the parchment down onto the table and Oliver looked at her questioningly as she silently fumed, leaning back into her chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She lifted her eyes from the table and up to him.

“I didn’t recognise the writing because he was completely rat-arsed when he wrote it. Apparently he didn’t meet with me at the bar because he forgot.”

“He fergot?” Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow. How could anyone ever forget Hermione Granger?

“Yes, he forgot because he was too busy having the time of his life with some random witch he met on the street.”

Oliver blinked. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. Even he wasn’t that bad, he at least chatted to a woman for a couple of hours before he decided whether to bed her or not. He’d never just picked someone up off the street.

“Exactly,” she fumed. “I know why he did it as well.”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“To get back at me for breaking up with him. He’s mad that I didn’t see our relationship going anywhere and that I wasn’t comfortable with him in that regard. He’s been in a mood with me ever since, and hoping to make me jealous, he’ll sleep with any random witch that bats her eyelashes at him, tell Harry every miniscule detail about it, knowing that Harry will tell Ginny and she’ll tell me, or that I’ll overhear because I’m with them,” she fumed. “He needs to bloody grow up, I’m reaching the end of my tether with him and sooner or later, I’m going to hex his bollocks off.”

Oliver wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be afraid. “Jus’ hoo mad are ye?” he asked.

“Put it this way, if I were able to walk, I would be storming out of this manor, to the apparition point and apparating straight to The Ministry of Magic, where I would lie in wait for Ron to walk into his office so I could give him a piece of my mind.”

“Fer the safety af ev'ryone close by, a guess it’s a good thing tha’ ye cannae walk.” She scowled at him and he chuckled. “Eat yer breakfast.”

“I’m too mad to.”

“Do a have tae feed it tae ye like a wee bairn?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t you even dare,” she warned him.

He smirked in challenge and before she could blink Oliver was beside her, kneeling down by her chair with her fork in his hand.

“Here comes the broom,” he said in a sing-song voice, waving the fork around as if it were an actual flying broom. She clamped her mouth shut and shook her head childishly. “Open up,” he chided. She shook her head. “Am gunna resort tae dangerous measures if ye don’.” She looked down at him with a challenging gaze and her arms still crossed over her chest.

She suddenly burst into laughter when Oliver used his free hand to tickle her ribs, and he took the opportunity she presented him, putting food into her mouth. Her laughter was muffled and she scowled down at him.

“Do we have tae repeat this?”

She shook her head and he handed her the fork and moved back over to his own seat to continue with breakfast. He looked up at her, seeing a little pout on her mouth and he struggled to contain his snort. Her eyes shot to his and she glared at him murderously, but he could see her mouth twitching. She was faltering. He continued to watch her and before he knew it, she was laughing and her current bad mood was gone. He felt pride fill him; he was the one to make her laugh and make her forget about Ron Weasley.

She picked up her fork and pointed it in his direction.

“You’re a pain in the arse,” she told him, before placing a mouthful of food into her mouth.

“Happy tae be af assistance,” he replied. “Are ye gunna be alright by yerself?”

She shrugged. “It’s not the first time, is it? I’m just lucky none of my patients have been in need of my healing services; I wouldn’t be able to get to them. If they were to contact me before my leg’s properly healed, I’ll have to send someone else instead.”

“A don’ think Thomas would mind doin’ it fer ye if ye were tae ask,” he supplied.

“I suppose so, I’d just hate to have to do that. They’re my patients; I should be the one looking after them, that’s what I’m paid for. I’m just hoping no one falls sick for the time being, and if they do, it can be dealt with through an owl and a list of potions that should be procured. So, fingers crossed. As for what I’m going to do whilst you’re gone, I don’t know, but I don’t doubt Bobby would keep me company.”

“Bobby would be honoured, Miss,” the little elf spoke up from behind her.

Hermione squeaked in surprise and Oliver jumped, having not expected the little elf to appear, especially since he hadn’t been called.

“Merlin, Bobby, you gave me a fright,” Hermione spoke, turning to look at the elf behind her. Bobby lowered his head. “And the honour would be mine. I will take the opportunity that is presented to convince you to divulge all of Oliver’s childhood secrets and embarrassing moments.”

“Bobby, don’ tell her anythin’,” Oliver said. “A don’ think a would survive the teasing.”

“Probably not,” Hermione smirked and Oliver shook his head.

His wand buzzed on the table, letting him know he had to leave for training. “An’ tha’s me cue tae leave,” he said, standing up and grabbing his broom from its place leaning against the wall.

Bobby clicked his fingers and a brown paper bag appeared on the table, Oliver blinked and picked it up, recognising what it was instantly.

“Seeing as I wasn’t able to make you lunch myself this morning, Bobby was kind enough to fill in for me. He’s such a sweetheart,” she said, smiling down at Bobby and the elf blushed, wringing his apron in his hands.

“Thank ye,” Oliver replied. “A’ll see ye later.”

“I’ll be here, as usual, like the damsel in distress stuck in her tower waiting for her knight in shining armour to come along,” she sighed.

He arched an amused eyebrow. “Are ye saying am yer knight in shining armour?”

“Well, technically you are,” she shrugged. “You did rescue me from a terrible fate after all. So, Knight, I hope training is far less stressful for you and that you have a good day.”

His mouth twitched. “Will ye await me return, Damsel?” he asked, playing along.

“Always,” she nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

He chuckled at her before making his way out of the kitchen and towards the fireplace.

“See ye later,” he called over his shoulder.

“Don’t get injured today,” she called back. “Right, Bobby, what should we do today?” He heard her say, just as he reached the floo.

He picked up the floo powder, called the address and threw it into the grate.

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

He stepped out of the fireplace at Puddlemere Stadium and came face to face with his teammates, all standing around and looking as though they had been waiting for him. He blinked in surprise before a frown appeared; they were up to something.

“Hey, Cap,” Pallie said.

“Hey,” he replied cautiously. “What are ye all doing here so early?” he asked.

“Early, are we early?” he said innocently.

“Aye, ye are, now what are ye after?”

“Nothing,” Thompson shrugged. “How’s your head?”

“Better,” he replied.

“And Bobby?”

“Feeling better an’ happy he’s back tae his chores.”

“Good to know,” Bishop spoke. “So, are we having a drink at yours tonight?”

“Naw,” Oliver said.

“Why not?” Malloy asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s the third Thursday of the month; tradition dictates that the Captain hosts the team for drinks.”

“A cannae do it, a promised me parents a’d visit them, Ma’s been sending howlers as a havnae visited her in a while.”

They all looked as though they didn’t believe him, but thankfully they left it at that.

“If you say so,” Kings spoke.

“Since a cannae do tonight, go tae The Crimson Lion an’ tell Lee Jordan tha’ I sent ye an’ tae put yer drinks on me tab.”

They all blinked in surprise, before looking at each other and nodding, they then all turned and headed towards the pitch. Oliver sighed, well, that should keep them off his back for a while and he’d bought himself a little more time to come up with better excuses for the foreseeable future.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Oliver stepped out of the floo and into the living room, eyeing the bar and deciding whether or not he should have some fire whiskey. Like he’d promised the day before, training had not been pleasant, especially for him.

Kings needed to start paying attention, he’d allowed a bludger to get straight past him and it had smacked into Oliver’s shoulder, dislocating it. Hermione was going to be livid when she saw the bruising, he was sure of it, and he’d need the liquid courage in his system when that happened.

He poured the liquid into his tumbler and downed it before going in search of Hermione, rubbing at his sore shoulder whilst he did so. There were only so many places she could be, given that he hadn’t given her the tour and Bobby wouldn’t take her anywhere she hadn’t been before. He knew she wasn’t in the living room so he started with the kitchen, and upon seeing her not there, he made his way straight to her bedroom. Her door was opened and he stepped inside, not seeing her. He peeked into her bathroom and she wasn’t there either and he frowned until he heard crying.

He followed the sound and it led him to the closet. He opened the door, seeing Merlin coming straight into his view and hearing his sad whimpers. Oliver’s eyes scanned what he could see of the closet before peeking around the door and Hermione came into his sight.

She was sat in the far corner; her back pressed against the wall and her legs pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped around her knees with her head buried against them. She had made herself as small as possible and sat beneath her clothes hung on the hangers. Oliver felt a stab in his chest.

He slowly approached her, not wanting to frighten her and allowing her time to realise he was there. He sat beside her, pulling his knees up and resting his forearms on top of them. He sat in silence, waiting for her to speak first. He knew she knew he was there; she turned towards him, pressing her shoulder up against his.

He didn’t know how long they sat in silence, but he’d been on the verge of dozing off when she finally acknowledged him. She lifted her head from her arms and looked at him, showcasing her puffy, red eyes and tears falling down her cheeks. Her watery eyes locked onto his.

“I’m ashamed of myself,” she whispered.

“Why?” he questioned softly.

“I blame him. The more I think about it, the more I can’t stop and the more I blame him.”

“Who?”

“Ronald,” her voice cracked. “If he hadn’t of stood me up, I wouldn’t have left the bar alone and none of this would have happened. If he’d let me know he wasn’t coming, I wouldn’t have drank so much and I would’ve been safe to use the floo in the staff room. If he had been there, I would’ve stayed longer and he would’ve walked me home. I can’t help but blame him, and because I blame him, I hate him. I don’t want to hate him. He’s my best friend. Every time I think about him, I want to hurt him. What’s wrong with me?” she asked, her tears falling down her face more forcefully. “It’s his fault.” A sob tore from the back of her throat and she buried her head back against her arms.

Oliver stared at her speechless, unsure of what to say, unsure of what he could possibly do to comfort her, to help her. He felt his heart tightening, he didn’t like seeing her like this; it wasn’t the witch he’d been spending time with recently. It wasn’t the witty, strong, fiery woman he was used to dealing with.

Without a thought he lifted his arm and moved it until it wrapped around and her shoulders, and much to his surprise, she unfolded her arms and legs and turned to face him, lifting herself up and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly as she cried into his neck.

He froze, unsure of what to do before his instincts kicked and he wrapped his arms her back, silently holding her and allowing her to cry on him. After some time her cries died down to sniffles.

“Ye have nothin’ tae be ashamed af,” he told her quietly. “Ye cannae help the way ye feel, but it is understandable. Ye had plans with yer friend an’ he broke them withoot telling ye. An’ ye could be right, it may not have happened if he’d been there, but ye will never know. He may have walked ye home an’ it still could’ve happened, he may have been overpowered by yer attackers tae. It’s perfectly understandable tha’ ye associate Ron bein’ the one tae blame fer what happened, an’ ye shouldn’t feel ashamed af tha’. Yer’ve been through a lot recently, don’ be so hard on yerself.”

She sniffled and nodded against him. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You’re a good friend, Oliver.”

Friend? He felt his face scrunch up at that term. He was a good _friend_? Why did he not like the sound of that?

She pulled away from him and sat back down beside him, her shoulder pressed against his.

“So, how was training?” she asked, wiping her tears away from her cheeks with the sleeve of her jumper.

He groaned and his head fell back against the wall.

She chuckled. “Sorry, should’ve known. Any injuries?”

“Naw, they’re all fine.”

“And you?” she asked.

“Fine,” he lied.

“You’re lying,” she said with a narrowed gaze.

“Am not,” he denied.

“You are; you’ve got that look on your face, a look I’ve only seen when you’re telling a lie.”

“A don’, besides, ye shouldn’t know tha’ look yet.”

She snorted. “Where does it hurt?”

He gave in. “Me shoulder,” he admitted. “Bludger dislocated it an’ left mae with a bruise.”

“Come on then,” she said, moving away from him. “Healer Granger will patch you up,” she spoke as she crawled out of the closet and back into her bedroom and he stood and followed after her.

“Am all fer a bit af role play.... oomph,” he grunted, being smacked in the face with a pillow from her bed.

“Not another word from you or I’ll purposely give you food poisoning.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

**Wood Estate – Sunday 29th November 1998**

“What do ye want tae do?” Oliver asked her, moving their dishes over to the sink to be washed later. With it being Sunday it was his day off and he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t been looking forward to getting away from the stadium and spending more time with Hermione.

She shrugged. “I had just planned on doing more research into techniques to help ease the pain of arthritis in the human body, several of my patients have it and I don’t like prescribing them Pain Potions. If too many are ingested over a small period of time, they become ineffective and it can lead to side effects,” she explained.

Oliver returned to the kitchen table and sat opposite her. “Such as?”

“I doubt you really want to know, I know my job isn’t as exciting as yours and I’m sure there’s something else you want to talk about that you’ll find more interesting.”

Oliver frowned. “A want tae know, honestly, a havnae met anyone as smart as ye an’ a like learning somethin’ new. Healing’s a tough profession tae get intae. If a dinnae want tae know more, a wouldn’t have asked.”

Hermione eyed him carefully, deciding whether or not he was telling the truth or if he just wanted to be polite.

“Alright then,” she conceded, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table and he mimicked her actions. “The average person can take no more than three Pain Potions a day without suffering from the side effects, such as nausea, headaches or drowsiness. If a Pain Potion is ingested more than fifteen times in a single week, that’s when problems begin to arise, particularly if you already have a weak immune system.” He nodded, a look of concentration on his face. “Arthritis can be a painful ailment to have, and unsurprisingly, it’s more common in muggles than it is magicals, which is why most healers are unable to identify and treat it effectively. I’ve written a few research papers on the topic and had them published in a medical journal, in hopes that this issue can be solved and other medical professionals are able to correctly identify it within patients.”

Oliver looked at her in surprise at that news, having no idea that she was also a published writer as well as a highly sought after private healer.

“Now as for the side effects of the potion, it varies from person to person, but the main side effects appear to be a loss of appetite, weight loss, chest pains, loss of vision whether it be temporary or permanent and high blood pressure, and if that isn’t enough, high blood pressure can be very dangerous.”

“Why?” he asked, leaning forward a little more.

“If it’s not managed correctly it can cause blackouts, as well as blood clots in the arteries preventing blood from being carried to the brain, and this can lead to a stroke or even a heart attack. Even with magic at our disposal, strokes and heart attacks are difficult for us to prevent.”

“Remind mae tae monitor me intake af Pain Potions,” he spoke and she chuckled at him.

“This is why I’m doing research into other potential methods of managing pain. There is the option of muggle pain killers, but most magicals are sceptical regarding their efficiency and they don’t trust their manufacturing, which only makes my job more difficult.”

“A can imagine, tha’s why am glad a don’ have the brains tae do somethin’ as difficult as yer profession. A’ll stick tae Quidditch,” he chuckled and she frowned at him.

“You’re a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for,” she told him honestly, seeing the way his face morphed into surprise. “You could do anything you wished to and with the right mentor and training, I don’t doubt you’d be good at anything you decided to do. And just because you’re a Quidditch player doesn’t mean you’re not smart, because you are. I’ve seen the requirements a Captain needs in order to lead their team to victory. Harry is my best friend and I spent hours watching him pour over plays and strategies in the common room at Hogwarts. I’ve never understood Quidditch, despite my OWL and NEWT results. Despite all the spells I can cast, despite all the knowledge I have in my head. You are smart and you shouldn’t let anyone tell you any differently, and you shouldn’t be so self-deprecating either. It’s not good for you.”

“Ye think am smart?” he questioned in disbelief.

“No, I _know_ you’re smart. You’d have to be to remember all the rules and fouls of the sport. To be able to strategise and work different plays into a game that will give you the best chance of success. I could never do that. I’ve always been rubbish at wizard’s chess. I have the knowledge, but I don’t have a strategic mind, which you do.”

He blinked, staring at her in a way that made her shift in her chair and for a light blush to stain her cheeks. Oliver’s lip twitched when he noticed.

“Anyway, that’s enough of that,” she cleared her throat. “I wanted to talk to you about rent.”

“Rent?” he said dumbly.

“Yes, rent,” she confirmed. “Since you have been so generous and allowed me to stay with you, I must insist that I contribute in some way and the only way I can think of that is to pay you rent for my staying here.”

He snorted at her. “A dinnae offer ye a place tae stay so a could take ye money, Granger. A did it ‘coz it was the right thing tae do. There is naw place safer fer ye than here. Besides, it’s been a while since a had a roommate. This place’s tae big fer only mae an’ the house-elves, we could use yer company.”

“And I would be more than happy to keep you company, and I will still pay for my staying her. I don’t care what you do with the money, as long as I know I’m contributing in some way then I will be happy.”

“Ye do realise tha’ a own the manor an’ the land, right?”

“And?”

He eyed her strangely. “Yer not gunna let this go, are ye?”

“No,” she said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms with a look of challenge on her face.

He sighed and a smug smile pulled at her mouth, realising that she had won the argument.

“Fine, ye really want tae pay fer staying with mae?”

“Yes,”

“Okay, fifty galleons a month, agreed?” he asked, holding his out to her for her to shake in agreement.

She scoffed at him. “No,”

“Naw?” he said in surprise, dropping his hand onto the table.

“You heard me, no.”

He frowned. “Fine, seventy-five a month.”

“Not happening in your lifetime.”

“What would ye suggest then?”

“Three hundred a month.”

“Not happening in yer lifetime,” he fired her words back at her.

“Why the bloody hell not?” she demanded to know with a scowl on her face.

“Am not takin’ tha’ much aff ye fer rent.”

“Well, I think you should.”

“Well, am not gunna.” She huffed at him. “What did ye pay fer yer last flat?”

“Two-fifty a month.”

Oliver made a noise of surprise. “Seriously?” She nodded. “Sorry tae tell ye this, but ye were severely overpaying. Befere a bought the manor, a lived in an apartment tha’ was three times the size af yer flat an’ it was cheaper by almost fifty galleons. Yer landlord was taking advantage af ye.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I know I was overpaying, the original price was one seventy-five a month, but seeing as I had a dog and I wanted anonymity, I had to pay extra. I gave him what he wanted so that he would keep the flat’s listing private and so nothing and no one would be able to connect me to the flat. I only left and entered the apartment through the floo, I never opened the door to anyone, I never met or interacted with any of my neighbours and I paid the rent in cash, sending the money with an owl that could not be traced back to me.”

Oliver blinked in surprise. “He still took advantage af ye an’ it isnae right.”

“It doesn’t matter; I’m no longer living there. Despite all of my attempts to remain hidden, I was still found,” she replied, looking down at the table.

“Whoever this arsehole is, he won’t find ye here.”

She nodded but didn’t reply. “I’ll give you three hundred a month.”

“Not happening,” he snorted. “A’ll take one hundred.

“Two-fifty,” she countered.

“One-fifty,” he replied, leaning back in his own chair and crossing his arms.

“Two twenty-five.”

“One seventy-five.”

“Two hundred, and that’s as low as I’ll go.”

His gaze locked on hers and his resolve melted. “Fine, twa hundred,” he agreed, shaking her hand. “Now tha’s finally settled, let’s give ye a tour.”

“I can’t walk,” she frowned.

Whilst Thomas had confirmed the day before that her leg had finished healing, the bone wasn’t quite strong enough yet for her to even attempt to walk on her own, though she could now stand which she thought was progress.

“Easily solved,” he shrugged, standing from his chair and before he could pick her up, she stopped him.

“Oliver, you’ve still got an injured shoulder, you shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting until it’s completely healed,” she told him in her best healer’s tone of disapproval. “I have a better idea,” she said, before pulling her wand from her pocket and he raised an eyebrow when she removed her shoes, transfiguring one of them into a strange-looking plank with wheels. “It’s a skateboard,” she grinned.

“A what?” he asked confused.

“Skateboard, muggle kids love them,” she explained, before pulling herself out of her seat and struggling to lift herself onto it, but she did in the end. “There, since I can’t yet move my leg, you’ll either have to push or pull me along, but at least you won’t have to carry me. It’s actually a lot of fun, I’ll prove it to you when I’m better.”

“If ye say so,” he replied amused, before taking her hand in his and pulling her along. She wobbled slightly and laughed loudly when the wheels got caught on one of the chairs at the table and she nearly fell off and he shook his head and chuckled at her.

It took a short while but Oliver was able to show her around the first floor of the manor, and he explained that whilst the ground floor was for guests and entertaining them, the first floor was for private use.

The first floor held the kitchen and living room as she had seen many times before, as well as it holding her bedroom, Oliver’s bedroom and a further five bedrooms, all of them furnished and with their own bathrooms but undecorated. Also on the floor, there were two separate bathrooms.

Oliver led her to a door she hadn’t noticed near the fireplace in the living room and he opened it to show a large landing with a grand staircase. Despite Hermione’s protests, Oliver picked her up in his arms and carried her down the stairs until they reached the last step, bringing them into the foyer.

They made their way to the left first, Oliver showing Hermione the parlour, the formal living room, the formal dining room which was bigger than the living room and the kitchen combined, and he showed her the kitchen which was meant for the production of food on much larger scales. There were a couple of empty rooms without furnishings or decorations and Oliver explained that he hadn’t yet decided what to do with them. They then made their way back to the foyer and went down the right corridor.

Oliver took her into the first room, it was smaller than the rest but it only contained one thing. A black grand piano. He sat on the stool and watched as Hermione softly ran her fingertips over the polished wood, before she lightly pressed a key, followed by another, hearing that it was perfectly tuned.

“Do you play?” she asked him, her fingers running over the keys as if itching to play.

He shook his head. “Ma wanted mae tae take lessons when a was younger but a never had any interest, a was tae focused on Quidditch. Tae appease her a did attend a couple af lessons, but a hated it an’ the witch was awful. A begged me Ma tae let mae quit an’ once she met me instructor, she dinnae put up a fuss. She dinnae like her either,” he chuckled. “Do ye play?” he asked curiously.

Her fingers ran over the keys once more before she turned her eyes to him.

“No, no I don’t,” she replied, yet Oliver got the feeling she was lying to him. He had seen the way a spark entered her eyes when she touched the keys, but understanding that she didn’t want him to push the subject, he took her to another room in the manor.

Hermione gawked at the sight that met her, her eyes moving between the floor to ceiling windows that covered the entirety of the back wall, showing a beautiful view of the grounds, the skylight above and the largest swimming pool she had ever seen in her life.

“You have a bloody indoor swimming pool!” she exclaimed making him laugh at her.

“Aye, I do,” he said, his eyes twinkling as he perched himself on one of the lounge chairs by the side of the pool.

“But why?” she asked, apparently at a loss for words.

“Why not?” he replied with a shrug. “A don’ use it as much as a probably should,” he admitted. “But, as a said befere, ye have access tae anythin’ in this manor, nothin’ is aff limits tae ye. Ye have complete free run af the place, ye might use this more than a do,” he nodded to the pool.

“I doubt it,” she muttered.

“An’ why is tha’?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. She mumbled something under her breath but he didn’t hear her. “What?”

She sighed and turned to face him with an embarrassed look crossing her face. “I can’t swim,” she admitted.

“Excuse mae?” he said in surprise. Who couldn’t swim?

“I can’t swim,” she shrugged, looking down at the ground and fiddling with her hands behind her back.

He frowned. “But a thought ye were a part af a task fer the Triwizard Tournament.”

“I was, it’s why I was initially against partaking, even if I was the thing Viktor would miss the most. Dumbledore convinced me otherwise and promised that nothing would happen to me. The merpeople would protect me until I was rescued, either by Viktor or Dumbledore himself. I was terrified. When I broke through the surface of the water the spell I’d been put under wore off instantly, and in my panic, I almost drowned the both of us. It took me two weeks to be able to sleep without nightmares.”

“A’ll teach ye tae swim,” he said, nodding to himself.

“I don’t think so,” she protested. “You are not getting me anywhere near that water,” she said, pointing to the pool. “You’d have a better chance of getting me on a broom.”

“A fergot ye cannae fly, a’ve got me work cut oot fer me.”

“Not a chance in hell is that happening.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t,” she said, crossing her arms and daring him to argue with her.

He shook his head at her with an amused smile on his face, before she turned her eyes to look out the windows, seeing the dark grey sky and the pouring run down the glass.

“When the weather lets up a’ll show ye around the grounds. A havnae explored it all yet so a’m not exactly sure what we’ll find, but a suppose we’ll find oot tagether. A do know there are a few guesthouses dotted aboot the place, a’ve seen them when a’m flying over the grounds.”

“Guesthouses?” she questioned.

He shrugged. “A dunno why they’re there, a jus’ found them an’ had them done up like the manor. A assume the previous owners rented them oot tae families fer weekends away an’ they made a bit af money on the side.”

“Have you thought about doing that?” she asked curiously.

“Naw,” he shook his head. “A don’ need the money an’ a don’ like the idea af strangers wandering around. They’re far enough away tha’ ye’d have tae fly tae them or use one af those muggle cars.” She raised an eyebrow. “Aye, a know what they are,” he chuckled at her surprise. “There’s a large building attached tae the manor which a assume if fer keeping muggle cars in, an’ a know each guest house has their own building tae.”

“They’re called garages,” Hermione nodded. “Muggles not only use them to store their cars but also their motorbikes and bicycles, as well as boxes of items and whatnot. It’s essentially a ground floor attic.”

He nodded in understanding. “Come on then, there’s only one room left fer ye tae see an’ a think ye gunna like it.”

Hermione looked at him curiously as he led her to the final room in the manor, and upon entering through the open door her eyes widened.

“Merlin,” she whispered.

Her eyes darted about the library, seeing it decorated in blues and silvers, with plush looking furniture, a wooden coffee table and two large tables and chairs, along with the walls lined with books upon books. More than she could ever dream of owning in her lifetime. It was clear to her that it was nowhere near the size of Hogwarts library, but she was sure she’d die before she ever managed to read every single book in front of her.

“So, yer favourite?” Oliver asked knowingly, leaning against the door frame and watching Hermione take it all in.

“By far, my absolute favourite,” she sounded breathless, looking as though she couldn’t wait to scan the titles and cuddle up on one of the armchairs with a book in hand. “I am never leaving.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Well, ye are; it’s lunchtime an’ am starving.”

A slight pout formed on her lips, followed by a crease in her forehead as she frowned. Oliver thought she looked rather adorable.

“We can come back after lunch.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, a know ye jus’ cannae wait tae get yer hands on a book.”

“Then what are we waiting for, let’s go have lunch.”

If she were able to walk, Oliver imagined that she would be skipping through the manor and singing to herself, and he shook his head at the thought.

“So, what do ye fancy?” he asked her, helping her back towards the grand staircase, before picking her up and carrying her up the stairs. She didn’t protest this time, in fact, he suspected she wanted get lunch over and done with so she could return to the library as soon as possible.

“Anything, I’m not a fussy eater, but as long as it’s quick to make.”

“Ye jus’ want tae get back tae the library,” he snorted.

“It’ll take me at least an hour just to look over the titles of the books before I can even choose one to read,” she argued.

“What would ye do if a warded the door shut?” he asked amused.

“I’m your new roommate; I can make your life very difficult.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Wood Estate – Wednesday 2nd December 1998**

“What are ye planning tae do taday?” Oliver asked her, taking a sip from his tea and watching as Hermione mimicked his actions.

“I’m not sure, Thomas has, thankfully, finally released me from house arrest,” she sighed and he chuckled. “I might do some research and visit Lee and Terry, Lee works at the twins’ shop part-time, but he finishes at twelve on Wednesdays, and Terry doesn’t work Wednesdays. It’s been a while since I last saw them, and I can’t keep putting Lee off. I’ve already received three owls from him asking why I cancelled our plans.”

“Do ye think yer body can take it?” he asked.

She took another sip of the hot liquid and nodded. “Yes, I’m still a little slow on my feet, but I’m finally walking again, and hopefully I’ll be right as rain in a few days.”

“Won’t Lee ask ye why yer walkin’ funny?”

“Probably, I’ll just tell him I fell over, he’d believe it. Merlin’s tripped me over plenty times in the past, and I’ll stick to the story of having the muggle flu as to why I’ve been _avoiding_ everyone.”

“Will ye be alright?” he asked, trying to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she asked confused.

“Ye havnae left here in a week, an’ ye were here a few days befere tha’.”

“I’ll be fine,” she waved him off. “It’s you that you should be worrying about. I’m getting annoyed at having to heal you every five minutes, sooner or later I’ll be turning up to the stadium and having words with the useless healer your team seems to employ.” He snorted. “And don’t even get me started on your teammates, if I ever meet them, you can be damn well sure they’ll be getting an earful from me, especially your beaters.”

“Tha’ a cannae wait tae see,” he replied amused. His wand buzzed on the table, alerting him that it was time to leave for the stadium.

“Your lunch is on the side,” Hermione commented, picking up a slice of toast from her plate and nibbling at it. “Chicken salad, pumpkin juice, a cauldron cake and on orange.”

He blinked. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to her making lunch for him. He smiled his thanks and stood to retrieve the brown paper bag from the side.

“Have a good day, Knight!” she called after him and he felt an amused smile pull at his mouth.

“Don’ get in any trouble, Damsel,” he called over his shoulder.

“I don’t go looking for it, it just finds me!” she huffed.

He snorted. “A’ll see ye when a get home.”

There was something oddly domestic about their friendship, he noted, as he threw the floo powder into the grate and stepped into the fireplace.

~000~000~000~

Hermione had made her way to her favourite room in the manor and found the book she had been reading the previous night, Achievements in Charming, opening it up to the bookmarked page. She’d only been reading give or take an hour, when a large eagle swopped in through the only open window in the room, landing on the coffee table in front of her and sticking its leg out to her with a haughty look on its face.

Hermione rolled her eyes; she knew of only one person that possessed such an animal as a familiar, which meant she was soon going to be suffering from a headache. Hermione glared at the bird when it tried to bite her finger as she removed the rolled-up parchment from its leg.

“You’re just as snippy as he is, honestly, you’re a match made in heaven you little monster,” she griped at the bird. The large eagle gave a squawk of indignation before flapping its large wings and flying off.

Hermione scoffed at the bird before unrolling the parchment, her eyes quickly scanned the words it contained before she rolled her eyes.

She slipped the parchment into her book, bookmarking her place, before standing and making her way out of the library, up the grand staircase and to her bedroom. She slipped on a pair of black leather boots and pulled her raincoat from the wardrobe, slipping it on over her shirt and jeans.

She slipped her wand into her pocket and then pulled her medical bag out from her beaded bag and slipped them into her pocket once she’d shrunken it down and she made her way to the living room.

“Bobby,” Hermione called softly, smiling when the little elf appeared before her and bowed.

“Miss,” he greeted.

“Hello, Bobby, I hope you’ve had a lovely morning.”

“Yes, Miss,” he replied, his cheeks growing darker with his blush.

“That’s wonderful. I’m just letting you know that I must attend to one of my patients and will be leaving the manor, after which I will be visiting with my friends. I am unsure of the time I will be back, but I should return before Oliver. I will be leaving Merlin behind today, would mind being a dear and keeping an eye on him for me?”

“Of course, Miss, Bobby likes the small bear.”

Hermione laughed. “I’m sure he likes you too,” she replied. “He’s currently sleeping in my bedroom, now I better head off, I shall see you later.”

She turned and made her way over to the fireplace, taking a handful of floo powder into her fist, being grateful that Oliver had added her to the wards a few days prior. It would make coming and going a lot easier.

~000~000~000~

**Malfoy Manor**

Hermione stepped out of the floo and dusted herself down, her hearing picking up on footsteps slowly approaching. She looked up and she felt a smile pull at her face, an answering smile greeting her.

“Hermione, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Narcissa Malfoy asked her, pulling her into a gentle hug and kissing her on the cheek in greeting.

She pulled back from her and Hermione couldn’t help but be flawed by the beauty of the woman stood before her. She was shorter than her, but her raven black hair and pale skin always made her stand out from the crowd. She wore robes of the finest quality and in a soft purple with matching boots hidden beneath the fabric. Her hair was pulled back from her face and tied neatly in an elegant bun at the nape of her neck. The smallest amount of makeup was applied to her face, mascara and a little blush.

“I received on owl requesting my healing services,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.

Narcissa sighed. “I’m sorry, Dear, we both know he can be a little dramatic.”

Hermione snorted; that was an understatement. “So what am I dealing with?”

“You would not believe me if I told you.”

“Somehow I doubt that,” Hermione said and Narcissa chuckled at her.

“He’s in the sunroom,” she said, before gently hooking her arm through Hermione’s and leading her through Malfoy Manor, making sure to completely avoid going anywhere near the drawing-room.

Hermione and Narcissa chatted casually until they reached their destination and despite being there many times before, she couldn’t help the way her eyes swept over the large room consisting of plush furniture, expensive rugs and a large coffee table. Priceless works of art hung about the room along with a vase or two on display. The doors leading out into the garden were open and Hermione could hear grumbling coming from that direction.

“It’s about bloody time, Granger,” Draco Malfoy scowled as he all but stormed into the room.

She had long ago admitted to herself that Draco Malfoy had grown remarkably over the years, and now he was quite handsome. His signature platinum blonde hair no longer slicked back, but now had been left to grow and tendrils fell over his forehead. His tall frame was covered with a pair of black trousers and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His pale skin would look unhealthy on anyone else but him and his chiselled jaw and straight nose showed his pedigree breeding. His ice-blue eyes were currently glaring daggers at her.

“Hello, Draco, it’s lovely to see you too. I’ve been well, thank you for asking, and yourself?” she spoke, causing Narcissa to laugh lightly from beside her.

“She is right, Darling, where are your manners?” she said to her son.

He narrowed his eyes on Hermione as she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Hello, Granger, I’m glad to hear you’ve been well, as have I. Now bloody well heal me,” he grouched.

Hermione scoffed. “Charming, now I see what all the witches see in you.”

“They find me irresistible,” he sniffed.

“Annoying, I think the word you were looking for is annoying,” she snorted.

Narcissa shook her head at the two teenagers, once enemies in school and later on opposite sides of the war, but now friends. Sometimes. Narcissa excused herself to grab a pot of tea from the kitchen, leaving the two of them alone.

“Right, what ridiculous _ailment_ am I dealing with today?” she asked him. 

“It’s not ridiculous,” he denied, before holding his hand out to her and stuffing the other into his pocket.

Hermione moved closer to him to examine his hand and when she saw what he wanted her to heal, she couldn’t help herself, she burst out laughing.

“Oh, Merlin. You have got to be kidding me,” she laughed.

“It’s not funny, Granger!” he growled, only making her laugh harder.

“I can’t believe you called me all the way over here for this. I could’ve had another patient that needed my attention, a patient with a legitimate need for my healing services.”

“This is legitimate!” he protested. “And I pay you to heal me, so heal me. It hurts!” he whined.

She sniggered and rolled her eyes, but she did remove her medical bag from her pocket and resized it, digging through it until she found a pair of tweezers. She took Draco’s hand in hers and quickly made work of removing the stinger embedded in his skin, making sure to nudge it out rather than pulling. She cleaned the wound and then applied some Numbing Cream to the small red area and placed a small bandage around his hand.

“There, all better,” she said amused, patting his hand and making work of vanishing any leftover bandage and putting her things back in the bag.

“That wasn’t so hard, now was it?” he said.

“You’re the biggest baby I’ve ever met,” she snorted, making her way over to one of the couches and sitting down on the comfortable cushion.

“I am not!” he said, making his way over to the couch opposite her and standing there, staring down at her.

“Are too,” she argued. “I’ve healed a nine-year-old who sliced his head open and he didn’t complain nowhere near as much as you.”

“I am not a baby!”

“You are currently throwing a tantrum like a three-year-old.”

“I am not!” he seethed, stomping his foot and accidentally kicking the leg of the coffee table. Hermione burst into laughter when he groaned and flopped onto the couch, holding his injured foot in his hand and glaring at her.

“I’m not healing you.”

“Hermione, Dear, I believe Draco has learnt his lesson,” Narcissa spoke, entering into the sunroom with a tray levitating behind her.

As she took a seat beside Hermione on the couch, the tray was placed on the coffee table. Hermione smiled when she noticed the biscuit selection; her favourite, chocolate.

Hermione took the teacup and saucer from Narcissa and sipped at the hot liquid, prepared perfectly by the house-elves as always. They chatted happily with Draco sending scowls her way.

“I almost forgot,” Narcissa spoke. “Bubbles,” she called, and the little elf appeared before them, bowing and greeting each of them in turn. “Please fetch the item from my wardrobe.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, popping out of the room and returning with a fairly large box, only to disappear once more.

Narcissa handed the large white box to Hermione and she took it confused, removing the lid when she was instructed to do so. Hermione felt a gasp leave her lips when the beautiful gown came into her view. She lifted her eyes to look at Narcissa questioningly.

“The Christmas Eve ball,” she reminded Hermione. “You had initially declined our invitation, now you have a gown to wear and for you to decline once more, knowing that we gifted you the gown, would be disrespectful.”

“That’s emotional blackmail,” Hermione scowled.

“That’s my mother,” Draco replied, the scowl gone from his face and replaced by a smirk. She glared at him.

There was no way for her to get out of this and she knew it.

“Fine,” she seethed.

“Oh wonderful,” Narcissa chimed. “You are going to look lovely in your gown.”

“I doubt anyone could compare to you,” Hermione replied.

“You’re too kind,” she said with a smile.

Hermione looked at the dress once more. It really was beautiful, she didn’t know if she could pull it off but she would try. It was, after all, a Malfoy party, at least she wouldn’t be bored like she had been at The Ministry Ball in September. Her fingers moved over the soft fabric, imagining herself wearing it, dancing in it. And then a thought entered her mind.

“Is the invitation for a plus one still open?” she asked Narcissa.

“Of course, do you wish to bring Lee, one of The Weasley bunch?”

“No,” she replied, earning raised eyebrows from both Mother and son.

“Ah, I see she has finally gotten her way,” a voice spoke up from the entranceway. Hermione turned to see Lucius Malfoy walk into the room, placing a kiss to his wife’s cheek as he passed her before taking a seat beside Draco.

Lucius Malfoy looked far better than he had in previous years. His platinum hair as long as ever and tied back at the nape of his neck with a silk ribbon. His robes perfectly pressed and his shirt blinding white beneath it. He no longer carried a cane, thank Merlin, but the Malfoy signet ring sat proudly on his finger. His pale skin no longer looked sickly, cheeks hollow and his eyes haunted. He and Draco were so much alike she would swear that if she didn’t know any better they could pass for twins.

“I am not surprised,” Hermione replied, moving the large box onto the floor beside her feet. “How are you, Lucius?”

“Much better, thank you. My knees aren’t what they used to be, but since you’ve been tending to me, I’m doing well.”

She smiled. “You’re following your medication regime?”

“I am making sure of it,” Narcissa piped up, making Hermione chuckle.

“And I trust you are sticking to the diet.”

“Of course, My Dear,” he replied.

“I saw you sneak down to the kitchens last night, you ate the last of the cheesecake,” Draco spoke, earning a glare from his father.

“Lucius!” Two outraged women scolded.

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

Hermione stepped out of the floo in The Leaky Cauldron and wasted no time in heading out into the alley, wanting to get out of the rain and to Lee and Terry’s flat as soon as possible.

Hermione would’ve floo’d if they had their fireplace connected to the network, but despite them living together for a few months, they were too lazy to do so, meaning Hermione had to do the twenty minute walk until she reached the alleys that housed witches and wizards. Their flat was in the opposite direction to her old one.

She looked up at the grey sky with a less than pleased look on her face, before pulling her hood up and fastening her coat and stepping out into the rain and into the bustling crowd.

Hermione had one purpose and one purpose only, to get to Lee and Terry’s flat, yet when she was in the crowd of people, she had barely taken a few steps before she was being jostled and pushed into, people bumping into her with their shopping bags and bodies and being pushed into others. Something inside of her mind snapped and she was rooted to the spot. She couldn’t move, her feet heavy and uncooperative. Her head was spinning, her body shaking, her breathing was coming out in short pants and she squeezed her eyes shut tightly and clenched her hands into fists.

An image ran through her mind. An image from that night.

Her chest was tightening and she was feeling dizzy. She knew the symptoms well. She was on the verge of having a panic attack.

She moved her hand into her pocket, a feeling of safety washing over when her fingers wrapped around her wand. She forced her eyes to open and with great effort, she was able to take a step forward, then another. She was darting through the crowd as quickly as she could and she ducked into the first alleyway she came across, moving into the corner and crouching down, making herself as small as possible, making herself invisible to passersby.

With a shaking hand, she lifted her wand and struggled to focus. There was only one person she trusted.

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere Stadium**

Oliver growled in annoyance, barely dodging the bludger before it smacked into his shoulder. What were they playing at? It was the beaters responsibility to keep the bludgers away from him and the others. There were two beaters and two bludgers. How did they both miss the one that almost hit him?

“Kings! Wilks! A swear tae Merlin himself, if ye allow one more bludger tae get past ye, a will make yer lives a living hell!” Oliver bellowed, his voice carrying in the wind.

“I don’t think that’s possible,” Wilks muttered, pulling up beside Kings, Pallie and Thompson.

“He’s already kicking our arses with these drills he’s got us doing,” Kings said.

“To be fair, Mate, you should’ve spotted that bludger from a mile away, I saw where it was heading from the other side of the pitch,” Thompson shrugged.

“Shut it, no one asked for your opinion,” Wilks glared.

“Well, I suggest you all scatter, Wood looks to be plotting your deaths,” Pallie spoke, before flying off and leaving the gathered group.

Oliver sighed and lifted his hand from his broom, wiping the water from the rain off his gloves and onto his bottoms before gripping his broom tightly. He couldn’t risk it, not with the current weather and it didn’t look to be letting up, the sky the same dark grey it had been for the last three days. He pushed his wet hair away from his face and narrowed his eyes, seeing Malloy almost crash into the coach’s box.

Why was his team filled with idiots? Was it the end of practice yet? He sighed once more, knowing it wasn’t. They’d barely been in the air an hour after returning from their lunch break. He sighed. Four hours to go.

From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a strange coloured mist and he turned his head, seeing that it was quickly making its way over to him. He frowned in confusion when it stopped before him, the blue-grey smoke morphing into the small form of an...

“Otter?” he said aloud, not realising he’d done so and he stared at it in confusion. It suddenly clicked into place, he was seeing a Patronus.

The otter opened its mouth and a shaky and frightened voice spilt from its lips.

“Oliver... Diagon Alley... I need help... Please...”

Oliver felt his heart pounding in his chest and his head spinning so fast he had to grip his broom to stop him from falling off. He knew that voice anywhere. He forced himself to breathe before he flew away from the hoops, allowing Pallie to score, but for the first time in his life, he didn’t care.

He quickly dismounted his broom in the Coach’s box to see Coach Burton looking up from his clipboard with a frown on his face, clearly sensing that something was wrong. Oliver was always the first in the air and the last one down. He never left the pitch for practice, not even if he was busting for the toilet.

“A need tae go,” Oliver rushed out, barely restraining himself from just leaving without informing anyone and risking disciplinary action.

“Your Mother? Father?” he questioned.

“Honestly?” Coach nodded. “Naw, it’s not, but a need tae go, a cannae tell ye why.”

Coach Burton eyed him, seeing his jittery behaviour and the look of worry on his face. Something was wrong. He nodded towards the door and Oliver rushed out a ‘thanks’ before running up the stands, through the building and ignoring the strange looks he received from the employees mulling around.

He didn’t stop running until he reached the fireplace and floo’d to the Leaky Cauldron.

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

Oliver stepped out of the floo and quickly made his way out of the pub and he stood on the step, looking around the bustling crowd, his eyes searching for Hermione. He didn’t know where she was, how was he supposed to find her? Hell, he didn’t even know what was wrong.

As if someone was answering his prays, the little misty otter appeared before him and then disappeared down the alley. Oliver quickly realising that it was leading him to Hermione, chased after it, pushing his way through the busy crowds and receiving more than one look. He supposed he looked strange. Oliver Wood, running down Diagon Alley, wearing his Quidditch practice robes and his protective gear and carrying his broom, whilst chasing after a floating blue otter. That wasn’t strange at all.

He almost ran past the alleyway but stopped when he saw the blue mist offering a little bit of light in the dark of the alley. He pulled his wand and quickly made his way down the alley, his eyes scanning the small pathway for any potential threats, but found none, but he did find Hermione.

She was curled into herself and huddled in the corner, making herself as small as possible. He could see her shoulders shaking and as he neared, he became aware of her hands shaking too, as well as the sounds of her sobs. 

“Hermione,” he said softly.

Her head snapped up after hearing his voice and he felt his heart break when her frightened gaze locked onto his. Before he could blink, she was on her feet and had wrapped herself around him, clinging to him tightly as she sobbed into his practice robes.

“What happened? Are ye hurt?” he asked worriedly, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her shake her head against him.

“Take me home,” she sniffled.

Oliver would be lying if he didn’t admit that he liked those words coming from her. He shook his head and cleared his throat.

“Hold on tight,” he said softly, and with Hermione wrapped around, his broom held in his hand and his wand in the other, he spun on his heel, apparating them both into the manor living room.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Oliver carelessly dropped his broom to the floor and caught Hermione as she fell to the ground, landing on her knees. He lifted her into his arms and quickly made his way to her bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot and Merlin was nowhere to be seen, meaning he was probably wandering around somewhere.

He placed Hermione down on the bed and he had to literally pry her off of him since she wouldn’t let go.

“Hermione, we need tae take yer coat aff an’ get ye dry,” he said softly.

She must’ve registered his words since she let go of him, removed her coat and boots and left them in a pile on the floor. Oliver cast Drying and Warming Charms over the both of them before he removed his gloves and pads and put them on the armchair. He made his way back over to the bed and sat on the edge and Hermione moved closer to him, automatically leaning her head on his shoulder and moving to hold his hand in hers. He gave her a comforting squeeze.

“What happened?” he asked gently.

She took a deep breath and although her sobs had stopped, tears continued to fall down her face.

“One of my patients required my healing services, even if it was for a ridiculous reason,” she said, her eyes closed and her mouth tugging at the corners. “They wanted me to remove a bloody bee sting from their hand.” Oliver snorted. “Since it was after lunch I decided to visit Lee and Terry and I floo’d to Diagon Alley. I was fine until I got swept up in the crowd. All those people surrounding me, trapping me, caging me in, touching and pushing into me. I felt helpless. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. My head was dizzy and my chest hurt. Before I could pass out I forced myself to move until I found the alleyway. I remember.”

“Remember?” he questioned confused.

“From that night, I remember something,” she clarified. His body tensed beside her and he held his breath, waiting for her to explain. “With all those people touching me and being pushed and shoved, it brought back something.”

“What?” he said quietly, squeezing her hand in encouragement.

She was quiet for a moment. “There were three of them,” she whispered. “They came out of nowhere, they caged me in and grabbed me so I couldn’t get away. I didn’t have time to use my wand, and Merlin, he’d already been hurt. And I remember something else. Their eyes. I know the colour of their eyes,” she spoke, a haunted tone to her voice.

“Bobby,” Oliver called and he appeared immediately. “Please fetch Minister Shacklebolt and inform him that Hermione remembers, he’ll know what it means.”

“Master,” he bowed, disappearing from view and returning minutes later with the Minister and the Head Auror.

Hermione was staring off into space despite them both being stood in front of her, and seeming to understand they weren’t going to get answers from her, they both turned to Oliver.

“She remembers?” The Minister asked, sounding hopeful whilst looking at Hermione sadly.

Oliver nodded. “She said she remembers somethin’. She was in Diagon Alley when her memory was triggered by the crowd. She said there was definitely three af them. They caged her in so she couldn’t escape an’ Merlin had been hurt.”

“That’s more than we initially thought,” the Head Auror frowned.

Oliver frowned in thought. “Her stalker, what if he’s not working alone? What if there’s more than one af them an’ this is why there was more than one attacker. Stalker’s tend tae be possessive, they wouldn’t share the object af their obsession with jus’ anyone.”

“He’s right,” the Head Auror agreed. “It’s more than likely her attackers are her stalkers and they’re working together.”

“It’s easier to find a group of people than it is to find a single individual, one of them is bound to slip up and when they do, we’ll know,” the Minister said.

“She said she remembers somethin’ else,” Oliver said.

“What?” they asked together.

“The colour af their eyes,” he answered. “But she never told mae.”

The Minister kneeled down in front of Hermione and did his best to gain her attention, he did everything short of touching her, not wanting to startle her, and it didn’t work.

“Hermione, can ye tell mae their eye colour?” Oliver asked her quietly.

Just when he thought she had gone into a catatonic state, she thankfully answered him.

“Blue with green flecks. Hazel with flecks of amber. Dark brown, almost black,” she whispered.

“Well done,” The Minister said to Oliver, clapping him on the shoulder and quickly leaving with Jolkins following behind him, needing to update their files.

Oliver sat next to her in silence for what felt like hours. He needed to use the bathroom and so he removed his hand from hers and stood to leave, but as he took a step forward, Hermione’s hand flew out and caught his hand.

He looked down at her, seeing her looking up at him with eyes filled with so much vulnerability, so much sadness and hurt that it almost felt wrong to look at her.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

He nodded and she let go of his hand and shuffled onto the bed, laying down. Oliver moved back onto the bed, laying down next to her and staring up at the ceiling with an arm resting behind his head. Much to his surprise, Hermione shuffled closer to him and lifted her head to rest against his shoulder, burrowing into him and searching for warmth and comfort. He removed his arm from behind his head and wrapped it around her shoulder, rubbing his hand over her arm.

“Please don’t leave me,” she whispered.

“A won’t,” he promised, feeling the way her hands gripped onto his practice robes and her shoulders started shaking as she sobbed into him. “A won’t.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

**Wood Estate – Wednesday 2nd December 1998**

“Master Oliver, Master Oliver!”

Oliver groaned and his eyes fluttered open, seeing Bobby stood beside him and fiddling with his clothing.

“What is it, Bobby?” he asked, lifting a hand to rub it over his face.

“Your friends be here.”

“Again?” he grumbled.

“Yes, Master, Bobby tells them to go, that Master be sleeping but they not listen. They want to see Master.”

“Fuck sake,” he grunted. He was going to kill them! “Thank ye, Bobby, a’ll take care af them.”

Bobby bowed and disappeared from view and Oliver sighed, turning his head to see that Hermione was sound asleep, her head resting on his shoulder and her hands still clutching at his practice robes.

He sighed a final time before carefully removing himself from Hermione’s hold, she made a noise of protest and shifted in her sleep, but otherwise didn’t wake. He quickly made his way out of Hermione’s room and through the manor, down to the parlour and he entered the room with a less than pleased look on his face.

“What the hell do ye want, especially at this hour?” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair.

They all eyed him carefully, seeing him still in his practice robes despite it being close to eleven at night. Oliver was less than pleased to see Malloy, drunk as usual whereas the others appeared to be sober.

“Coach said you had a family emergency, we just wanted to make sure everything’s alright,” Pallie said with a shrug, and Oliver eyed them all carefully, knowing they were suspicious with his recent behaviour and they were hoping to catch him in a lie.

“Aye, me Ma was bitten by a gnome in her garden an’ wanted me help tae get rid af it. She was jus’ using it as an excuse tae see mae.”

“Why? You visited her last week,” Thompson spoke with a raised eyebrow.

“Anno a did, but she says am always tae busy tae visit her an’ she wanted tae see mae. Now, if ye don’ mind, a would like tae get back tae bed, an’ ye should do the same, a have a lot planned fer trainin’ tamorrow an’ ye gunna need tae be rested.”

“Why were you sleeping in your robes?” Bishop asked him.

“A fell asleep whilst working on some new flyin’ formations, not that it’s any af yer business, now leave. This is my last warning, don’ show up here unannounced or a’ll have Bobby throw ye oot on yer arse next time.”

Oliver noticed Malloy’s mouth moving but no sound was coming out, he summarised that one of the team had placed a Silencing Charm on him, which Oliver was grateful for. Malloy was annoying enough when he was sober, when he was drunk he took it to a whole new level and he wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with him. 

They all eyed him strangely before they walked out of the parlour and to the entrance as a group, with Oliver following behind them.

“He’s definitely hiding something,” Pallie commented as they made their way to the apparition point.

“We’ll find out sooner or later,” Wilks shrugged. “Whatever it is, it won’t stay secret for long.”

~000~000~000~

Oliver made his way through the manor and to his bedroom, when he came to Hermione’s room and stopped. The door was open and she was curled in on herself, making little whimpering noises in her sleep. Oliver debated whether he should leave her be and head to his own room, but he was reminded that he’d promised her he wouldn’t leave her.

He walked into the room and removed his boots, before climbing back onto the bed, not bothering to change out of his practice robes. The moment he laid down, Hermione turned towards him in her sleep and shuffled closer to his warmth, her hand automatically gripping onto his robes and her whimpers soon died down and she was quiet.

Merlin shuffled in his sleep, curled up at the end of the bed and he made a snoring sound which made Oliver chuckle. He laid in silence, listening to Hermione’s breathing before sleep claimed him once more.

~000~000~000~

**Thursday 3rd December 1998**

When Oliver woke, it was to the feel of his robes being twisted and turned, being pulled away from his skin, only for it fall back against him. He opened his eyes and blinked a few times, seeing that Hermione was still pressed against his side, only now her fingers were fiddling with his robes, twisting and turning, pulling and releasing the fabric in her fingers.

As if sensing his eyes on her, she looked up at him through her eyes lashes, her gaze locking on his, and neither of them spoke, just stared at each other.

“You stayed,” she finally spoke in a whisper, sounding confused and lost, grateful and scared.

“Ye asked mae tae, an’ a promised not tae leave ye,” he replied, his voice a little groggy from sleep.

“Thank you,” she replied in a whisper, before leaning up to kiss his cheek. “I know I must be a pain in the neck.”

“Yer not, if ye need mae, then a’ll be there fer ye.”

“I know,” she replied, “You have been from the day you saved me.”

She fell quiet and Oliver thought she’d fallen asleep again, until the alarm on his wand started buzzing, letting him know he had to get up for training, and he heard her sigh.

“That’s our cue,” she said, pushing herself up and away from him. “Well, you go and get ready, I’ll make breakfast, how do you feel about chocolate pancakes?”

“A feel ye spoil me,” he replied.

“If only,” she replied with a roll of her eyes, before climbing off the bed and leaving the room with Merlin following behind her.

~000~000~000~

When Oliver entered the kitchen it was to see Hermione putting ingredients into a bowl and mixing them all together, and he walked over to the counter and leaned against it, watching her movements carefully and putting them to memory, so he could attempt pancakes at some point in the future.

He watched as she poured the batter in the pan and it sizzled under the heat, and much to his surprise, she took the pan from the hob and gave it a toss, the pancake lifting from the pan, spinning in the air and landing back in the pan on the other side. He blinked in surprise and she chuckled at him.

“Not expecting that, were you?” she asked him and he shook his head. “It’s the best way to ensure it’s properly cooked on both sides, without damaging it or making a mess.”

“Will ye teach mae?”

She looked up at him. “You want to teach you to make pancakes? Mr. Gordon Ramsay himself.”

“Who?” he asked with a frowned.

“Famous muggle chef.”

“Oh, an’ aye, a want ye tae teach mae, a don’ have the talent fer pancakes.”

“I’ll make you a deal, if I teach you how to make pancakes; you have to show me how you made that chicken pie the other day.”

“Alright,” he agreed.

“You’ll have to be patient with me, I’m rubbish, seriously; you’ve never met such a hopeless cook in all your life.”

“A doubt tha’,” he snorted.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” she shrugged, before rolling up the pancake and placing it on the plate with the others she’d made earlier, summoning the chocolate sauce, covering the entirety of the plate in it, along with placing a few strawberries on the plate. “When it comes to baking, presentation is everything,” she told him after seeing his raised eyebrow.

He shook his head and picked up both plates, taking them over to the table whilst Hermione made herself busy with making their tea.

“What are ye plans fer taday?” Oliver asked her when she sat down.

He noticed her shift in her seat. “I think I’m going to stay in today.”

“Ye shouldn’t lock yerself away, what happened yesterday was unfortunate an’ anno it scared ye, but ye cannae spend the rest af yer life hidin’ away in the manor. Ye only needed mae tae come an’ get ye ‘coz a memory was triggered. Tha’ can happen anytime, it can happen anywhere. Ye don’ know what will set it aff, it’s not good fer ye tae keep yerself hidden. Dinnae ye want tae visit Lee?”

She bit her lip and looked down at the table and nodded. “I did.”

“Then visit him taday.”

“He doesn’t start work until one o’clock this afternoon.”

“Plenty af time fer ye,” he said.

“But what if I have another flashback? What if I panic?”

“If tha’ happens, if somethin’ frightens ye, all ye have tae do is let me know an’ a’ll come an’ get ye an’ bring ye home.”

She looked up at him through her lashes.

“Did I get you in trouble yesterday? I didn’t want to disrupt you when you were at training, but you were the first person that came to mind, you were the only person I trusted.”

He shifted in his seat slightly, feeling his insides squirm at her admittance.

“Naw, a dinnae get in any bother, bein’ Captain comes with a lot af advantages. Coach dinnae question mae when a left,” he replied shrugging and lying slightly. “If ye need mae taday, a’ll come an’ get ye, Coach won’t say anything.”

“I’ll think about it.”

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

Oliver’s eyes scanned the canteen as he ate his lunch that day. Hermione had made him ham and cheese bagels -and he had no idea what they were but Hermione assured him he’d like them- orange juice, an apple, and several liquorice wands knowing they were his favourite.

His eyes were trained on his teammates, them all being scattered around the canteen and mixed in with the employees of the stadium. His eyes fell to Bishop, seeing that he appeared to be favouring one leg, after Kings had failed to stop a bludger and it smacked into Bishop’s leg. His eyes then went to Malloy, seeing him holding his hands in his head, still suffering from a hangover and Oliver hadn’t been kind with their training that morning.

Thompson was glaring at Wilks and had his arm pulled up against his chest, his snitch arm that had been caught by a bludger which Wilks had not seen, but the rest of the team had. Pallie held a hand to his side, and Oliver knew there was going to be a massive bruise there, after getting hit by a bludger which Wilks had failed to see again.

He didn’t know what he was going to do. If the team didn’t pull themselves together, they would never be ready for the game season, and despite it still being eight months away, he was worried. They had their first practice match against the Pride of Portree in less than a month and he was already resigning himself to losing. He purposely gave them difficult drills to complete in order to push them to be better, but it was like they didn’t care. It was as if the passion they had once had for Quidditch had died.

He sighed. With three of his players injured and one hungover, training was not going to go any better, so, he resigned himself to having a peaceful lunch break before returning to the pitch and having the training session from hell.

~000~000~000~

It was around three o’clock when the team had been called down to the Coach’s box in order for them be yelled at by their Coach, before he calmed down enough to launch into a plan of action, trying to salvage the rest of the training session for that day.

Oliver had been listening carefully when his attention was drawn away from the coach and to the stands when he heard footsteps. When he looked up, he was more than surprised to see Hermione making her way towards the gathered team. She was dressed in a pair of jeans, a pretty white blouse, a black pair of leather boots and had black robes over the top, and she was carrying a black medical bag in her hand, one that was similar to the one Thomas owned.

He stared at her in surprise as she fearlessly approached Coach Burton, obviously not being aware that he hated being interrupted when he was speaking to the team. Noticing her approaching, all eyes turned to her, several looking at her in surprise, obviously recognising her for who she was.

“I’m very sorry to interrupt, Coach Burton,” she spoke politely and with a friendly smile on her face. “But I have been contacted by several of my patients that are in need of my healing services.”

Much to Oliver’s surprise, Coach Burton appeared to be starstruck as he stared at Hermione blankly, before he cleared his throat and pulled himself together, turning his eyes to the team, searching for which ones had called her.

Bishop, Thompson and Pallie all stepped forward and Oliver blinked, having not known that Hermione’s clients happened to be three members of his team. Almost half of his team!

“I thought Healer Dodd had seen to you,” Coach Burton said.

“He has,” the three replied together.

“Say no more,” Coach Burton said with a sigh, knowing full well how useless the team healer was. They were all unsure of how he had passed his healer examinations.

“Thank you,” Hermione spoke. “Kenny, I’ll start with you, please take a seat.”

She removed her wand from her pocket and conjured up two chairs. Bishop sat in the first chair and Hermione took the one opposite him, placing her medical bag down on the ground. Rather than Coach Burton continuing with his conversation and the team listening, they were all too busy staring at Hermione.

“What’s the problem this time?” she asked Bishop.

“Bludger collided with my leg,” he replied.

“Alright, I’ll take a look at it.”

She conjured a stool for Bishop to rest his leg on before using her wand to remove his boot and lifting his trouser leg up to have better access to his leg. Several of them winced when they saw the nasty bruise that covered his leg and Oliver saw the way she scowled at it as she muttered under her breath, waving her wand over his leg and doing God knows what.

“What treatment were you given?” she asked.

“A mild Pain Potion to take the edge off and an Episkey to mend the fracture in my leg.”

“Bloody Idiot!” she muttered, but everyone still heard and couldn’t help but snort at her.

“From what I can see, you should’ve been given a Skele-Gro Potion. A part of your bone has been chipped and that fragment has broken loose and is now floating about in your bloodstream, if this fractured piece of bone somehow gets to your brain, heart or lungs, you’ll die,” she said seriously and everyone stared at each other in surprise. “I’ve removed the fragmented bone and you’re safe now, but you’ll have to have a Skele-Gro Potion to re-grow the piece of bone that is missing. I’m putting you on a Quidditch ban, you can’t play until Saturday.”

“Fine,” Bishop sighed, apparently knowing Hermione well enough not to argue with her. “And I’ve had enough of dealing with your mistreated injuries long enough. The others could’ve been forgotten, but not this. Had you not called me and I hadn’t spotted the mistake he made, it would’ve killed you. I’m having his healer’s license for this.”

“About time,” Pallie snorted before he winced and Hermione noticed.

“Come on then, Jack, your turn,” she said, handing Bishop a potion and instructing him to take two drops, before taking the vial from him and he moved off the chair and put his boot back on, already beginning to feel better.

Pallie took his seat and lifted his jumper before Hermione could ask what was bothering him. Hermione’s scowl reappeared as she stared at the large bruise covering his entire right side.

“Treatment?”

“Mild Pain Potion, he said it was fine.”

“Fine my arse!” she fumed. “You’ve broken three ribs; did he even bother to scan you?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.

“One of your ribs could’ve punctured your lung!” she struggled to contain her anger. “You’re going to need a Skele-Gro Potion, and I’ll give you a stronger Pain Relief, you’re injuries will take longer to heal, so I’m sorry to tell you, you’re on a Quidditch ban too, I don’t want to see you anywhere near the pitch until Monday.”

“Fine,” he sighed.

“Take this for me, you’re going to need the entire vial,” she instructed, handing it to him and he did as was told, and quickly downed the Pain Potion afterwards, helping to numb the pain of his bones being re-grown. “I’ll tend to your bruise later; I’ll just take a look at Grady first.”

On cue, Pallie stood from the chair and Thompson took his place, holding his arm out.

“Let me guess, bludger,” she said and he nodded. She sighed loudly, before running scans over his arm. “You’ve also got a fracture, thankfully it’s not as serious as I thought it was going to be. You need to take one drop of Skele-Gro to seal the fracture, and you’ll be good to play by tomorrow.”

She handed him the potion before running her hands through her hair in frustration, and she turned her attention to the staring teammates and Coach.

“Would one of you mind being a dear and fetching the terrible healer that is employed here?” She asked. Everyone blinked at her before Wilks disappeared up the stands and into the building.

When he’d done that, much to Oliver’s surprise as well as the others, she muttered under her breath and a blue-grey otter burst from the tip of her wand before disappearing from view.

“What’s up with him?” Hermione asked, gesturing to Malloy who leaned over the railing with his head in his hands.

“Hungover,” Pallie answered her.

“Is this a regular occurrence?” she asked, seeming to notice the tone of disapproval in his voice.

“Almost every day,” he replied with a nod.

“His name?”

“Ben Malloy,” he answered and she nodded her thanks.

“Ben!” Hermione called and he slowly lifted his head to look at her. “Take a seat.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled.

“Yes, and I’m stupid,” she replied with a narrowed gaze.

“Just sit down,” Bishop rolled his eyes. “You’re less likely to get hexed if you listen to her.”

Malloy glared at him before trudging over to the chair and sitting himself down and Hermione leaned forward, her eyes sweeping over his face as if searching for something.

“Did you take a Hangover Potion?” He nodded. “It didn’t work, did it?”

“How’d you know?” he grumbled.

“I’m not stupid, that’s how. If you drink as much as your teammate says you do, then I’m not surprised the Hangover Potion is no longer working. You’ve used them too often that your body has become immune to them, you can take as many as you want, but they’ll never work and you have the risk of over-dosing and you’ll end up in hospital. If you’re lucky they’ll be able to save you from dying.” The team all stared between her and Malloy. “You do know that alcohol, if drank frequently and in large amounts can cause liver failure, don’t you? And that there’s no cure for it? If you have liver failure, you’ll die. You need to stop drinking and let your body rid itself of all the toxins you’ve ingested.”

“You’re not my healer,” he grouched.

“No, but I bloody well should be, at least then you’d be well taken care of. If I were your healer I’d be ashamed of myself for allowing you to get in this state.”

“I don’t have a healer.”

“Well, you need one. There’s a reason I’m so coveted, without sounding too arrogant, I’m good at my job, very good. There’s not been an injury that I haven’t been able to heal, or a disease that I have not been able to help with. I am often asked to work alongside the healers at St. Mungo’s, so I can diagnose patients that they are unable to. I have yet to let down a patient, and I’m not going to let you be the one to ruin my perfect record.”

“You’re not my healer,” he said, crossing his arms and scowling at her.

“I am now.”

“I’m not going to pay you,” he said, sounding rather childish and reminding her of Draco, right down to the blonde hair and blue eyes.

“I don’t care,” she said honestly, surprising the others. “I don’t do what I do for the money, I have more than enough wealth than I care for. I do what I do because I love my job and I love to help better the lives of my patients. I have a fairly large cliental list for someone my age, Quidditch players, politicians, celebrities, rich Pure-blood families. But I also provide private care to the orphanage, I provide care to the homeless, and I don’t receive a single knut for my work. Whether you pay me or not, I don’t care, but you can be damn well sure that I’m going to spend every day getting it into your thick skull that you need help and I’m going to give it to you whether you like it or not. Stop being so childish about it, I have enough children as patients and I don’t need another one.”

There was not a word to be heard as Hermione and Malloy stared at each other.

“Now, drink this and swallow these,” she instructed, conjuring a glass and filling it with water and handing it to him along with some aspirin.

“What is it?” he asked, eyeing it warily.

“Are you a Pureblood?”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic,” she sighed. “Just take them; they’ll help with your headache.”

As he did as she told him to, she waved her wand over him and he narrowed his eyes at her. “What did you do?”

“I’ve placed a charm around you, I’ll be alerted the moment alcohol crosses your lips, and I’ll track you down. You’re not my only alcoholic patient.”

“I’m not an alcoholic,” he denied.

“Maybe not yet, but you’re heading down that path, and if you continue, you’ll lose everything, especially your Quidditch career. Trust me when I say, I’m only doing what’s best for you. That’s my job as your healer.”

Hermione’s attention was drawn when two men appeared by her side. The healer shuffled on his feet nervously under her scrutinising stare, from his black hair down to his dragonhide boots.

“So, you’re the team’s healer, are you?”

“Yes, and you are?” he replied, gaining some confidence and folding his arms over his chest and looking down at her, as she still sat on a chair.

“Healer Hermione Granger,” she replied, seeing recognition lighting in his eyes and his arms dropped down by his sides. “I have just one question for you. Where the hell did you train and who did you train under?”

He frowned. “St. Mungo’s, I trained under Healer Travis three years ago.”

“That explains it then.”

“Explains what?” he asked confused.

“Why you’re so rubbish at your job. Healer Travis is almost as loony as Trelawney; I’m surprised she’s still got her job, and I don’t even know how you passed your healer examinations.”

“Excuse me?”

“No, I will not,” she spoke, her voice darkening slightly and making them all shift on their feet. “Over the last few months, I have been forced to heal my patients with injuries that you should’ve been able to take care of. A few bruises here and there not properly being treated I can ignore, but you could’ve very well cost the lives of both Kenny Bishop and Jack Pallie.”

“I did what I could for them,” he responded.

“No, you did not. I was called by my patients to look over their injuries, and thankfully I was, they could’ve died due to your actions. I discovered that Kenny had a fractured shard of bone floating in his bloodstream, if it reached his heart, lungs or brain, he would’ve died. I’ve taken care of it and given him the proper treatment. And as for Jack, you told him he was fine.”

“He is,” he protested.

“He has three broken ribs and one of them could’ve very well punctured his lung.” He flushed under her narrowed gaze. “You are putting the lives of these players at risk and I have had enough.”

“Meaning?” he spoke, a glare now on his face.

“Ah, Head Auror Jolkins,” she greeted, seeing the man approaching.

“Healer Granger, what can I do for you?” he asked.

“This man, he is the Puddlemere United's team healer, and for the last few months, I’ve born witness to his negligence regarding their health. If I had not come here today, two of my patients could’ve very well died due to injuries he deemed ‘fine’ and due to his improper care and treatment.”

Hermione dug around in her medical bag and pulled out a file, before handing it over. “You’ll find a record of injuries I have been forced to deal with due to his malpractice. He is putting the lives of others in danger; I can no longer allow it to happen.”

“I’ll have someone look into the matter further,” Jolkins nodded, before formally arresting the healer and taking him back to The Ministry.

“Thank God that idiot is out of the way, you’ll all be safer now,” Hermione spoke to the team. “And a quick question before I leave, why has there been an increase in injuries caused by bludgers?”

As if on the cue, the entire team all turned their attention to Wilks and he shuffled on his feet.

“He doesn’t see them,” Thompson shrugged. “We can all see them from the other side of the pitch, but he struggles too.”

Hermione bit her lip in thought and then looked to him. “Would you mind if I checked something?” She asked Wilks and he shrugged before walking over to her, taking the seat that Malloy vacated.

Hermione dug through her medical before pulling out what she needed and then she stood from her chair and moved to stand in front of him.

“Lift your head for me,” she instructed, before clicking the end of the small white torch to switch it on, and Wilks shut his eyes under the sudden light. “Keep your eyes open for me,” she said, before pulling his eyelid up and shining the light in it, and then moving onto the next eye. “Good, now with your left eye I want you to follow my finger... Great, now the right... Alright, from the preliminary tests I’ve done, I suspect you have short-sightedness.”

“And that is?” Wilks asked with a frown.

“It means that you are unable to see objects which are far away, whilst you can see anything that is close up perfectly. This could be why you’re not catching sight of the bludgers in time. If I were you, I’d go to St. Mungo’s tonight and have them run the proper tests to be sure. If I’m right, they’ll be able to have a pair of glasses made specifically for you, and you’ll see a massive difference when you play. Alright?” He nodded and she stepped back, placing everything back into her bag. “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you all,” she said to the team, before turning her attention to her patients. “And if you need me, just let me know and I’ll be over as soon as possible. Do you all still have your cream?” They nodded. “Great, be sure to put it on and around the bruises as usual.”

She nodded her goodbyes before her eyes finally landed on Oliver.

“Oliver,” she said nodding in greeting, causing the team to look between them. “It’s good to see you, it’s been a while,” she spoke with her eyes twinkling and Oliver had to stop himself from laughing.

“Granger,” he nodded, trying to keep a straight face.

“You two know each other?” Pallie asked, eyeing them carefully.

“Only in passing, we attended Hogwarts together, he was four years ahead of me,” she explained.

“She helped me team tae win the house cup me final year,” he shrugged.

“Well, I best be off,” she said, before turning and taking her leave.

Oliver waited a few minutes before making an excuse to follow after her.

“A have tae use the bathroom, a’ll be right back,” he said to Coach Burton, before all but running up the stands and into the building, heading straight to the fireplace, and he caught up to Hermione just as she was about to step in and floo out.

“A dinnae know ye were coming here taday,” he spoke.

“Neither did I,” she replied amused. “I only come to my patients when I’m contacted.”

“Ye never told mae tha’ several af me teammates were yer patients.”

“You never asked, and even if you did, I couldn’t tell you, patient confidentiality,” she shrugged.

“Are they goin’ tae be alright?”

“Just fine,” she assured him. “Just make sure they listen to me and don’t allow them to play until I said they could, they could make their injuries worse. Make sure Wilks goes to St. Mungo’s and has his eyes looked at, I’m positive you’ll all see a difference in him, and don’t worry about Malloy, I’ll have him sorted out before you know it. This may be why they’re not doing so well in training, but you still need to convince them to get new brooms for their safety.”

“A’ll do me best,” he nodded.

She smiled at him. “Well, I better go, I’ll see you when you get home. I’m going to head into The Muggle World and pick up dinner from this restaurant I used to go to with my parents when I was a child. Their fish is to die for,” she said, before smiling at him and disappearing into the flames.

He shook his head and made his way back down to the pitch. “Right, let’s get back tae trainin’,” he said, before mounting his broom and taking flight, oblivious to the eyes watching him.

“Does he seem different to you?” Thompson asked the others.

“Yes, I’d say calmer, a lot calmer,” Pallie nodded.

“Interesting,” Thompson muttered.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

**Wood Estate – Thursday 3rd December 1998**

Hermione had just finished dressing in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts and had pulled her hair up on top of her head in a pile of curls, she pulled back the covers on her bed and climbed in, laying down and getting comfortable. The moment her eyes closed and she felt herself drifting off into sleep, her wand which was stuffed under her pillow and within reach, began buzzing madly.

She grumbled before flinging the covers off herself, retrieving her wand and casting the Locator Charm, the exact coordinates engraving themselves into the wand, meaning she would be able to apparate straight to the destination site without having to picture an image.

She sighed when she saw the name appear before she summoned a pair of shoes and her robes and slipped them on. She left her bedroom and made her way down the hall towards the living room and she almost collided with Oliver.

She looked up, surprised to see that he was still awake given the hour, and he was dressed in nothing but his boxers and carrying a glass of water. She wouldn’t admit to the tinge of pink that found home on her cheeks, nor to seeing Oliver’s mouth twitch.

“Where are ye aff tae?” he asked, eyeing her shoes and robes.

“Patient,” she sighed.

“This time af night?” he frowned, looking at the clock above the fireplace, and seeing that it read that it was not long after two in the morning.

“Yes, my patients can call me any time of the night. Anyway, what are you doing up? You have training in the morning and you should be sleeping,” she said, placing her hands on her hips and looking at him disapprovingly.

“Alright, calm doon, Ma,” he snorted. “A woke tae go tae the bathroom an’ then a wanted a glass af water. A know ye were in the library ‘til late.”

“How’d you know?” she frowned.

“Ye jus’ admitted it,” he smirked at her scowl.

“Fine I was. Now, where’s the apparition point?”

“Head ootside on tae the grounds an’ follow the pathway ‘til ye reach the tree with a boulder beneath it.”

“Okay,” she nodded. “You’ll probably be asleep by the time I get back so I’ll see you in the morning.”

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment**

Hermione landed on her feet and staring up at a large apartment complex in the middle of Wizarding London. She grumbled before walking into the building and taking the elevator, whilst following her wand’s directions.

She stepped out on the twelfth floor and walked until she reached the fifth apartment on the right side of the hall. She knocked on the door loud enough for the tenant to be able to hear, but not loud enough to disturb the other occupants. She heard a crash and a curse from behind the door before it opened, revealing a haggard-looking Ben Malloy with a bottle of fire whiskey in hand and it looked to be missing a couple of tumblers worth of whiskey, maybe more.

He blinked at her dumbly as she stood there with a less than impressed look on her face, her hands on her hips and her foot tapping.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” she demanded.

He blinked, not knowing what to say to her.

“Did you not listen to anything I said? Honestly, you Quidditch players are so bloody stubborn that it’s maddening,” she huffed.

She pushed her way past him and into the apartment, her eyes taking in the modern decor before she snatched the bottle of fire whiskey from him and quickly found her way over to the sink, before pouring the entire contents down the drain and putting the bottle into the nearby bin. He didn’t say anything; he was too busy staring at her in surprise.

She left the kitchen and made her way back over to the living room, sitting herself down on the armchair, leaning back into the cushions and staring at him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” he finally asked, and Hermione noted that whilst his words weren’t slurred, he did look a little tipsy, struggling to keep his balance or his eyes open for that matter.

“Sit down,” she instructed, nodding to the couch opposite her. He blinked at her before reluctantly closing the door and slumping down on to the couch.

“I told you that I had placed a charm around you. I was in bed when it alerted me that you had ingested alcohol, after I told you not to. I’m not exactly happy to be here either, I would rather be sleeping but we can’t always get what we want. As for how I found you, that doesn’t matter. Why were you drinking?”

“Because I wanted to,” he shrugged, lowering his gaze to the floor when he saw her staring at him and looking less than pleased with his answer.

“I told you what would happen if you continued drinking, so why do so?”

He shrugged.

“That’s not a good enough answer.”

He shrugged again and Hermione sighed, running a hand over her face and through her hair. Her eyes trailed over him, seeing the bags under his eyes, his clothing rumpled, his body slumped and stubble beginning to make an appearance around his mouth and jaw. She had her work cut out for her. He wasn’t going to give in to her like the others had, she would have to earn his trust, and there was only one way to do that.

“Bedtime,” she said, standing up.

“What?” he muttered, lifting his tired eyes up to her face.

“Bedtime, you have training in the morning and you need sleep, allow any alcohol you’ve drank to wear off so you won’t feel awful in the morning and I’m not leaving until I know you’re sleeping. So, off you go.” He blinked at her. “Do I have to put you to bed like a child?”

He glowered at her before standing and storming away, to another room she suspected to be the bedroom. She gave it five minutes before calling out to him.

“Are you in bed?”

“Yes,” she heard him growl.

She waited in silence for fifteen minutes before standing and moving to the bedroom, peeking her head inside to see that Malloy was passed out on the bed, his breathing even and deep. She shook her head, before leaving him alone and she pulled her wand, summoning every bottle of alcohol that was in the apartment.

They all collected on the kitchen countertop and Hermione blinked, having not expected there to be so many bottles; there was enough to own a bloody liquor store. And they’d come from every room in the apartment, Ben had it stashed in places she wouldn’t even think to look; the bathroom, under the couch, behind the cushions, under the sink, inside the fireplace, behind a photo frame, even in the linen closet.

She sighed and ran her hand through her hair again. She really did have her work cut out for her. She found an empty cupboard in the kitchen and with a little extra spell work, she was able to get all of the bottles of alcohol to fit inside and she warded it shut, ensuring that Ben Malloy would not be able to access it.

She found some parchment and a quill in the kitchen drawer and wrote out a quick note.

_Take these, eat breakfast, have a shower and make yourself presentable. You’re in a position where you are highly scrutinised by the public, don’t give them something to use against you._

She left the note on his bedside table, along with some aspirin and a glass of water, before she left the apartment, locking it behind her with a Locking Charm, and then she apparated back to the manor and collapsed on to her own bed.

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment – Friday 4th December 1998**

Hermione found herself standing outside of Ben Malloy’s apartment for the second night in a row, her arms crossed over her chest and with a less than pleased look on her face. She had been woken at two in the morning by her wand alerting her to the fact that he had gotten his hands on more alcohol and was drinking it.

He opened the door, a scowl appearing on his face when he saw her. Hermione walked into the apartment and grabbed the fire whiskey from him, his reflexes slower in his tipsy state, and she poured it down the drain, dropping the empty bottle into the bin, before sitting on the armchair.

“Sit down, we’re going to have a little chat.”

His scowl didn’t move from his face as he trudged over to the couch and slumped into the cushions.

“We need to get to the bottom of this. Your condition is a lot worse than I had previously thought,” she spoke. “In order for me to help you, I need you to help me understand why you drink. What is the purpose behind it?” He shrugged. “How often do you drink? Do you drink throughout the day, during the evening or at night? Do you feel you need alcohol to function?” He shrugged again, not meeting her gaze and she sighed.

There was no point in pushing him. He would tell her when he was ready, she just had to wait and be patient.

“Bedtime, off you go,” she nodded to the bedroom. He stared at her. “Go, or do I have to put you to bed like a child?”

He glared but stood and made his way to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him and Hermione rolled her eyes. She waited a while before checking in on him, seeing him sleeping on top of the covers and still in his clothes.

She searched the apartment and found a further three bottles of alcohol before she placed them in the warded cupboard with the others, and she left a note on his bedside table along with a glass of water and some aspirin.

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment – Saturday 5th December 1998**

Hermione sat on the armchair, staring at Ben Malloy as he refused to look at her, his eyes remained firmly on the ground and looking at the same scuff mark on the floor that he had been staring at for the last hour.

Three nights in a row she’d found herself at his apartment during the early hours of the morning. Having expected him to go against her wishes, she’d purposely stayed up late and she’d arrived at his apartment before two in the morning. A pattern was forming and she was beginning to notice it.

She’d arrived at his apartment and by this time, Ben had only had time to down two tumblers of fire whiskey. Hermione took the rest of the bottle and poured it down the sink, and he sat on the couch in silence. The soberest she’d seen him so far.

“Are we going to talk about this now?” She asked him. He ignored her. “You think that you don’t have a problem. If that were the case, why have I been here three nights in a row stopping you from drinking yourself into an early grave? Why do you do this to yourself? I can’t help you if you don’t let me.”

“I’m going to bed,” he muttered.

She sighed and listened to his footsteps as he retreated to his bedroom. It was becoming routine to search his apartment and finding bottles of alcohol stashed about the place, before placing them in the warded cupboard with the others.

She left a note on his bedside table again, before leaving to get some sleep of her own.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate – Sunday 6th December 1998**

“Come on, Granger, put tha’ book doon an’ grab yer coat, we’re aff oot,” Oliver said, as he walked into the library, seeing the familiar sight of Hermione curled up on the armchair and with her nose buried in a book.

“I’m busy,” she replied.

“Naw, yer not, come on, let’s get some fresh air, the rain’s finally let up.”

“Maybe later.”

He snorted before walking over to her and plucking the book from her hand, holding it high above his head knowing she wouldn’t be able to reach it.

“Hey! Give that back!” she all but shouted.

She stood from the chair and stretched up to try and reach it; given their size difference if was useless. She made a sound of annoyance before climbing up onto the armchair and reaching out for her book. Oliver chuckled before stepping backwards, Hermione moved to follow him and misjudging her balance, she fell forward. She gave a shriek of surprise and Oliver caught her against him, one hand wrapping around her waist and the other still holding the book over their heads. He chuckled and raised an eyebrow as she scowled up at him.

“Yer not gettin’ the book back withoot injuring yerself,” he said amused. “So, grab ye coat, we’re goin’ oot, ye can have yer book back later.”

“You’re a pain in the arse,” she muttered, before pushing herself away from him and hopping off the armchair, storming out of the room, leaving behind Oliver’s chuckles.

He was waiting for her by the fireplace, wearing a black winter coat to go with his white t-shirt, blue jeans and trainers. She had opted for her white pea coat, to go along with her black skinny jeans and black leather boots, which would keep her feet warm and dry.

“Ye oot af ye mood yet?” He asked her with a raised eyebrow. “A guess not,” he said when he saw her scowl.

“I’ll get you back for this,” she muttered.

“A only took yer book aff ye.”

“Exactly!”

He snorted but stepped into the fireplace and she followed in after him.

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

They stepped out of the floo and Hermione felt her heartbeat pick up when the dingy and familiar decor of The Leaky Cauldron met her view. Oliver made his way to the door but stopped when he realised that Hermione wasn’t beside him. He turned to see her stood rooted to the spot and her eyes glued to the door ahead of him.

He walked over to her and stopped before her, putting his hand under her chin and tilting her head back so that she was forced to look at him, her frightened stare locking onto his gaze.

“What are we doing here?” she asked quietly.

“Ye cannae stay cooped up in the manor ferever, ye cannae let them affect yer life so much. If ye do tha’ then they win, they’ve beaten ye an’ the Hermione Granger a know would never go doon withoot a fight. Are ye givin’ in tae them, are ye letting them win?”

She took a deep breath. “No,” she said quietly.

“There’s the witch a’ve been waitin’ fer,” he replied with a smile. “Let’ go.”

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I’m not strong enough, not yet.”

“Ye are, yer the strongest person a know. A’ll be with ye every step af the way,” he promised.

He removed his hand from her chin, before pulling up her hood to hide her face and he did the same with his own hood, being reminded of what Hermione had said to him about being cautious. If they were spotted together by the wrong people, it would make things worse.

He led Hermione towards the alley and they stood on the doorstep, looking out at the crowd, busier than ever now that the rain had finally stopped. He felt her stiffen beside him and he slipped his hand around her much smaller one, giving her a squeeze of encouragement.

“We’ll take it one step at a time,” he told her.

“And if a memory is triggered?” she whispered.

“Am here with ye, if tha’ happens ye won’t be alone.”

She didn’t reply, but after a moment she squeezed his hand, giving him the signal that she was ready. He gently gave a tug on her hand and pulled her away from The Leaky Cauldron and immediately getting swept up into the crowd.

Hermione wasn’t sure were Oliver was taking her and she didn’t care, her sole attention was on focusing her breathing and the feel of Oliver’s larger hand holding hers, keeping her grounded.

They were jostled about in the crowd and Hermione slammed her eyes shut, waiting for the onslaught of memories, but they never came and she opened her eyes and released the breath she was holding.

“Ye okay?” Oliver asked her, having to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the chatter of the crowd.

She nodded her head but otherwise didn’t answer.

“Am a goin’ the right way tae Lee’s?” he asked, and she raised her eyes to look at him, barely making out his features hidden beneath his hood.

“Lee’s?” she questioned.

“Yer goin’ tae visit with him fer a while, a’ll find meself somethin’ tae do whilst a wait fer ye. Ye cannae keep putting him aff, he’ll get suspicious an’ ye cannae be cutting yerself aff from ye friends. Anno ye were scared tae go by yerself, so a thought a would take ye instead.”

“That’s really kind of you, thank you.”

He tilted his head to the side and gave her that lopsided grin that brought a blush to her cheeks. Thankfully her hood hid the colouring of her cheeks.

“Am a goin’ the right way?” he asked again.

“No, you want to be going in the other direction,” she replied.

“Shite, sorry,” he muttered, pulling a laugh out of her as he stopped in his tracks, swivelled around and continued in the opposite direction.

They continued to make their way through the crowd and Hermione briefly considered removing her hand from Oliver’s, but with that thought came the fear of her memories resurfacing and she wasn’t ready to deal with them. Instead, she took comfort in his presence, knowing that if she needed him he was there.

They walked in silence until they reached the street which Lee and Terry lived on, Hermione came to a stop in front of three steps which led to a brown wooden door.

“This is it,” she breathed out.

“Alright, a’ll have a wander ‘round Diagon Alley, it’s me ma’s birthday soon so a need tae get her a present. When yer ready jus’ send yer Patronus an’ a’ll meet ye oot here.”

She nodded. “Thank you,” she said, reaching up on her tiptoes and placing a kiss to his cheek, before removing her hand from his and walking up the steps and knocking on the door.

Hermione turned to look behind her, seeing that Oliver was already gone. When the door opened, she lowered her hood and a wide smile pulled at Lee’s mouth.

“Hiya, Love, it’s about time you pulled yourself away from your research,” he greeted, before pulling her into a hug. If she stiffened in his arms, he didn’t mention it.

She smiled at him when he pulled back from her, and he moved aside to let her through the door.

“Well, I’m feeling a lot better than I was last week, so I thought I’d come by,” she replied, slipping off her coat, hanging it up and making her way down the hall and into the living room.

“It’s about time you made an appearance around here,” Terry Boot called, looking at her over the top of the newspaper he had in his hands.

“I had the muggle flu last week, and I’ve been busy seeing to my patients this week, I’ve barely had any time to myself. I’ve taken on another patient and they’re proving to be difficult. They’re refusing my help.”

They both snorted at her as she sat herself down on the armchair.

“Speaking of help and healing, I read last night that Puddlemere’s latest healer has been fired due to neglect. You wouldn’t happen to have anything to do with that, would you?” Terry asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Of course not, what business would I have with the healer of Puddlemere United?”

“We don’t believe you, we know you’re responsible whether you admit it or not,” Lee said amused. “But enough of that, are you going to the Burrow tonight?”

Hermione frowned in confusion before realisation dawned on her. It was Sunday and the night of the monthly family dinner. No, she absolutely wasn’t going to attend. The last time she saw Harry or a member of The Weasley clan was days before she was attacked, and now knowing what she did and feeling how she did, how was she going to sit in a room with Ronald Weasley? The one person that could’ve prevented her attack from ever happening. She wouldn’t it. She couldn’t it.

“No, I can’t tonight,” she replied.

“You haven’t attended the monthly dinner for the last two months, Molly’s on the very verge of storming to your flat and dragging you to the Burrow by your robes,” Lee said.

“If I can’t make it then I can’t make it!” She snapped. They both looked at each other, then their eyes moved to her, watching her strangely. “I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I’m just tired, my patients have been making me earn my wage, and the new patient that I’ve taken on is a lot of work, he’s a borderline alcoholic and I’ve been finding myself at their place the last few nights, trying to get through to them. It’s going to be a while before it all sinks in and they finally listen to me. Chances are I’m going to be there tonight as well, I don’t think I’m going to have time to go to the Burrow this evening.”

They never took their eyes off her. Something was different about her. They didn’t know what; they just knew it was something.

“Now, before I get called away by a patient, let’s get ourselves to the kitchen and I’ll teach you how to bake a pie.”

After spending almost two hours with Lee and Terry, Hermione made her excuses and quickly left their flat, slipping on her coat and pulling the hood up and disappearing out the door.

Oliver was already waiting for her a few doors down with his own hood up and a bag held in his hand. Hermione approached him and felt herself relax at his presence.

“Alright?” he questioned with a frown, seeing the expression she wore on her face.

She nodded, but he didn’t believe her. “Let’s just get home.”

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

When they stepped out of the floo in the manor, Hermione immediately disappeared down the stairs and to the library. Oliver frowned, she hadn’t said a single word since leaving Lee’s flat.

He left her to her own devices and by the time it was nearing dinner, he found her in the library, but rather than reading a book, she had one sat open in her lap and she was staring off into space.

“Granger,” he called, but she ignored him. He walked over to her and placed his hand on her shoulder, she shrieked and the book fell off her lap and landed on the ground with a ‘thud.’

She glared at him as she pressed a hand against her heart, as if trying to stop it from jumping out of her chest.

“Bloody hell, Oliver, was there any need for that!” she hissed.

He shrugged and moved to sit in the armchair opposite her. “A did call ye name but ye weren’t listening, it's not me fault ye were on another planet.”

She scowled and sat back into the armchair, tugging out the cushion from behind her and wrapping her arms around it as she held it against her and she rested her chin on it.

“So, what had ye so lost in thought?” he asked.

She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

“It’s the monthly dinner at The Burrow tonight,” she replied. “I had completely forgotten until Lee asked me if I were going.”

“An’ what did ye tell him?”

“No. He pointed out that I haven’t been to the last two either, I was too busy tending to my patients.”

“An’ now?”

“I can’t, Ron will be there,” she whispered. He sat up and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and giving her his full attention. “How am I supposed to sit at the same table as him, knowing what I do? Knowing that if he hadn’t stood me up, none of this would’ve happened? Knowing that I hate him?”

“Ye canne avoid him ferever,” he said. “An’ sooner or later, they’re gunna get suspicious. Yer’ve been avoiding them since it happened. Ye go an’ set their minds at ease, show them tha’ nothin’s wrong an’ then ye can come back tae the manor an’ hide yerself away in the library.”

“I can’t do it, I just can’t. I can’t sit there with him in the room, I don’t feel comfortable being on my own with them. Lee hugged me and I flinched away from him! The Weasleys are a very affectionate bunch, I’ll have a mental breakdown before I even get to the table. I can’t be the person I once was. I can’t sit there as if nothing’s happened to me and pretend that everything’s alright. I’m not strong enough.”

“Ye? Not strong enough?” He questioned with a raised eyebrow. “Are we talkin’ aboot the same Hermione Granger? The Hermione Granger tha’ helped tae win a war? The Hermione Granger tha’ has wizards cowering in fear af her? The Hermione Granger tha’ survived torture under Bellatrix Lestrange, tha’ survived a deadly curse, tha’ survived a basilisk attack. Yer the strongest person a’ve ever met, there’s nothin’ ye cannae do.”

She felt her mouth twitch into a smile.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “I’ll go to dinner, if, you come with me.”

“What?” he said dumbly, believing that he’d misheard her.

“I’ll go to dinner tonight if you can with me.”

“An’ hoo are ye gunna explain tha’ one?”

She shrugged. “I’ll come up with something, I always do. You were friends with the twins in school, right? And Harry?”

“A suppose so,” he shrugged.

“Then that’s what we’ll use as an excuse. We ran into each other when in Diagon Alley today and we got to talking, and the subject shifted towards the others, after which I invited you to the Burrow to dinner, so you could catch up with everyone.”

“A don’ think anyone's gunna believe tha’.”

“They will; Lee knows I was in Diagon Alley today because I visited him, and he knows that we saw each other at the bar. He can vouch that we met up and struck up conversation.”

“Am not sure it’ll work, Damsel,” he said dubiously.

She shrugged. “Well, it’s entirely your decision, I don’t want to go but I will if you do. I’d much rather stay here to be honest.”

“Ye need tae get oot af the manor more.”

“I’m happy where I am, thanks.”

A thoughtful frown appeared on his face and he leaned back into his chair, clasping his hands together and resting them on his stomach.

He was starving, and as much as he loved to cook, if he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t be arsed cooking dinner. If he were to go with her, it’d get her out of the manor, it'd get her to start interacting with others on a more personal level, and, there would be an added bonus of food. He supposed he would be having dinner with a family he knew of and went to school with, so it wasn’t as if they were complete strangers.

“What time are ye expected?” he asked.

“Usually around six, that’s when everyone starts to arrive and dinner is severed not long after,” she answered.

“Grab ye coat, a’ll get Merlin ready fer leaving,” he said, standing up from the chair and making his way to the door.

“We’re going?”

“We’re goin’,” he confirmed.

“I don’t want to.”

“Ye said ye would go if a did, an’ now a am.”

“I didn’t think you’d actually agree to it,” she spoke with a frown on her face.

“Well a did, so get a move on, we’re gunna be late. Grab ye stuff and get yer arse intae gear, Damsel.”

The last thing he heard as he stepped out of the library was a huff and a cushion being thrown against the wall.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**The Burrow – Sunday 6th December 1998**

“I can’t do this, I’m going home,” she said, spinning on her heel and heading back towards the fireplace.

Oliver reached out and caught her hand in his, giving her a tug so she was forced to turn around and face him.

“We’ve talked aboot this,” he spoke. “What’s yer name?”

She sighed. “Hermione Granger,” she muttered, looking down at the ground.

“What are ye?”

“A witch.”

“A _strong_ witch,” he reminded her. “An’ what does Hermione Granger not do?”

“Give in,” she mumbled.

“Tha’s what a thought, there’s a house full af people waiting tae see ye. Ye get this over with an’ ye can go back tae the manor an’ hide yerself away in yer books. But this needs tae be done, ye will never be able tae move forward if ye don’.”

“You may be my knight in shining armour, but you’re still a pain in the arse,” she grumbled.

“Glad tae be af service,” he replied, before giving her hand a tug and pulling her out of the small shed they were currently stood in.

When they exited, Oliver became aware of the house up head, and he knew the only reason the house hadn’t toppled over was with the aid of magic. Nothing else could be responsible.

“They had it rebuilt,” Hermione explained, seeing Oliver’s slightly tilted head as he took in the strangely shaped house. It looked more like a tower than a house, if he were being honest. “It was burnt down during the war, it’s not an exact replica but it’s the closest they could get.”

“A wouldn’t expect anythin’ less from the Weasleys,” he chuckled and she shrugged.

“As the family grew in size, they just keep adding floors to the building to create more space, and the result was this,” she gestured to the house.

“Why did the floo take us tae a shed an’ not the house?”

“After the war, they had the floo network removed from the house for security, and they moved it to the shed,” she answered.

She came to a stop and Oliver stopped beside her, wondering why she was rooted to the spot, and it became clear when a figure came into a view, and they were making their way towards them.

As much as she needed the comfort he provided, Hermione removed her hand from Oliver’s before Harry was close enough to see, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.

She took a deep breath and steeled her nerves, before stepping forward and into the hug she knew Harry would give her. She had thought she would flinch the way she had with Lee, but she didn’t. In fact, she was comforted by his presence, by his smell of broom polish and citrus. Something she had grown accustomed to over the years.

She pulled back from him and she felt a genuine smile pull at her face; she hadn’t seen Harry in weeks. Growing up they had promised they would always be close, but now they were adults. They had their own jobs and lives which kept them busy so it was hard for them to meet up as often as they would like to. That was the purpose of the monthly dinners at The Burrow.

“How you doing?” they asked the other before they chuckled and hugged again.

“I’m good, you?” Harry said.

“I’m a lot better than I was last week,” she replied, and it wasn’t a lie. Physically she was fine, emotionally and mentally was another matter entirely. “Had the muggle flu.”

“How bad was it?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Remember Christmas, fifth year?”

He winced sympathetically. “That bad, huh?”

“Worse,” she nodded.

“I’m glad to see you’re better, you haven’t been responding to our owls.”

“Well, I could barely get out of bed to send a reply, and I’ve been busy this week, my patients have been making me earn my wage as of late. As it is, I’m half-convinced I’m going to be pulled away from dinner to tend to one of them.”

“That busy?”

“Afraid so,” she sighed.

He turned his eyes to look over Hermione’s shoulder and finally noticed that Oliver was stood behind her.

“Wood?” he questioned in surprise, his eyes darting between him and Hermione.

“Alright, Potter?” he nodded, stepping closer and shaking Harry’s hand. “It’s been a while.”

“What are you doing here? And with... Hermione?”

“I finally had a chance to visit Lee today, I ran into Oliver when in Diagon Alley. We got to talking and when I realised the time, I invited him to dinner, I doubt Molly would mind,” Hermione explained.

Harry snorted. “She wouldn’t, it’s another person for her to feed and coddle. Well, we better get inside, it’s supposed to rain again.”

“Lovely rainy England,” Hermione sighed before they made their way towards the Burrow.

“Where’s Merlin?” Harry asked, noticing that the large dog wasn’t currently bounding about the property.

“I decided to leave him at home today,” Hermione answered. “I haven’t got the energy to be chasing after him, I’ve had a long and tiring day,” she lied.

In reality, she had left him at the manor not only to keep Bobby company, but she didn’t want to risk him attacking Ron; it wouldn’t be the first time. Merlin _really_ didn’t like him and no one could figure out why.

As they reached the entrance, Hermione removed her coat and Oliver followed her actions, hanging them up beside the door and his eyes swept over the mismatched and worn furniture, the walls covered in photo frames and the magical clock sat on the wall before he found himself in the kitchen.

A chorus of greetings rang out when the occupants of the table noticed her arrival, and Molly Weasley, ever the overbearing Mother, stood to grip Hermione in a tight hug.

“Hermione, Dear, thank goodness you’ve finally pulled yourself away from your books, we’ve missed you around here,” she said, pulling back from the hug and eyeing Hermione carefully. “You’re too skinny, you need to eat more, come, come, let’s get you fed.”

Harry snorted and Oliver’s mouth twitched.

“Oi, Wood, what are you doing here, Mate?” George called, noticing his presence as he was stood in the doorway.

All eyes turned to him, looking surprised to see him there.

“We ran into each other in Diagon Alley today, we got to talking and I invited him to dinner, I thought you might like to catch up with your past captain,” Hermione explained.

“You kidding me! Captain, get your arse over here!”

“George!” Molly Weasley scolded.

“That’s Fred,” Hermione corrected.

“Fred!” she scolded as the others around the table chuckled. “And of course we’d be happy to have you for dinner, Dear,” she turned to Oliver and gave him a smile, before squishing him in a hug, much to Hermione’s amusement. “How’s your Mother?”

“She’s a lot better, thank ye, the treatments are keeping her stable,” he replied, seeing the way Hermione’s eyes had snapped to him and a frown appeared on her face.

He supposed he should’ve told her, and he felt bad in not doing so sooner. That would be a long conversation.

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, smiling at him kindly. “Now, take your seats, we’re just about to serve dinner.”

Harry had already moved to sit at the table and there were only two chairs left, one beside Ron and the one next to it. Hermione flinched but Oliver gave her a gentle nudge, urging her forward and she reluctantly took the seat beside him, with Oliver sitting next to her. She didn’t have a choice; it would’ve been suspicious if she hadn’t taken the seat next to him. Harry was sat opposite her and the twins sat on his right, putting them across from Oliver.

Hermione sat ram-rod straight as the dishes sat on the table were uncovered and everyone tucked into their food, Oliver not being the least bit surprised regarding their food intake given that he had gone to school with them and he had seen how much they could eat. The portions of food he selected for himself were considerably smaller, as were Hermione’s, but he suspected that was more due to the fact of who she was sat next to. The one person she wanted to avoid.

Fred and George immediately started up a conversation with him, congratulating him on his new Captain status, asking questions about the team and the coming up matches before the subject changed to their joke shop and the products they had in production. But Oliver kept an ear and an eye open for any sign of distress from Hermione.

“Hermione,” Ron spoke from beside her.

“Ronald,” she replied stiffly, her fork picking up some mash potatoes before letting it fall back onto the plate, to pick it up again and repeating the process.

“What’s the matter with you?” He asked gruffly, stuffing some chicken into his mouth and making Hermione grimace. You would think she would be used to the sight after years of being around him, but no, it was still nauseating.

“Why would something be the matter?” she replied emotionlessly, her body tense and her hand gripping her fork tightly.

“You’re not still mad that I didn’t turn up to the bar, are you?”

Hermione’s breath caught, her heartbeat picked up and she slammed her eyes shut tightly. The feeling of a warm hand slipping around hers under the table was the only thing that allowed her to pull herself together enough that she didn’t flee from The Burrow and back to the comfort and safety of the manor. She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly, seeing that Oliver was in a conversation with Fred and George and apparently not paying any attention to anyone or thing but them, but the squeeze of his hand on hers told her differently.

“No, Ronald, why would I be mad? I mean, it’s not as though I was sitting around by myself for over two hours, waiting for your sorry arse to turn up, now is it? It’s not as though I had people coming up to me, trying to feel me up, despite the fact that I wore my cloak and I told them to leave me alone. It’s not as though I was forced to walk home by myself, on a Saturday night, with drunks and perverts wandering the streets, now is it?” She hissed, feeling all of her hatred for her best friend beginning to well up inside of her.

He blinked dumbly before a smirk pulled at his mouth.

“I knew it, you’re jealous,” he said smugly.

“Jealous! What do I have to be jealous over? _I_ broke up with _you_ because I couldn’t see our relationship going anywhere past the friendship stage. Who you choose to sleep with is none of my concern, I don’t care. What I do care about is you choosing some bloody tart over me, your best friend, and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me. You left me at the bar alone!”

“She wasn’t a tart,” he denied.

“What self-respecting witch would sleep with someone they just bumped into on the bloody street?”

“Calm down, would you?”

“Calm down, calm down!” She hissed in disbelief. “Do you have any idea of how much danger you put me in? No, of course, you don’t because you only care about yourself and your next shag! Do you know what, Ronald, I’m done with you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked testily, sitting up straight in his chair and narrowing his eyes on her.

“It means that I can’t be done with your selfishness and pettiness any longer. I’ve had enough. You were once my best friend, but not anymore.” She leaned in closer to him, their eyes locked and their noses almost touching and she felt a tug on her hand, but she ignored it.

The words that she didn’t want to admit to herself out loud were on the tip of her tongue. If she said them to him, things would never be the same.

“What the bloody hell are you going on about?” he demanded.

“I hate you,” she whispered the words quietly, but she meant them.

He reeled back from her as if she’d slapped him. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. She briefly looked around the table, glad to see that no one but Oliver was aware of her argument with Ron, being too busy eating their dinner and conversing with those next to them. Even Harry who was sat opposite them was too busy joining in with Oliver’s conversation with the twins to notice.

“I hate you, Ronald, I blame you and I can never forget it,” she said quietly, before turning her eyes back to her untouched food.

She felt a tug on her hand and she turned her head to see Oliver staring at her questioningly, she didn’t respond, just looked back down at her plate and he frowned, his eyes darting between her and Ron, who was also staring at her.

The loud squawk of a bird caught Hermione’s attention and she looked up to see the large eagle flying into the kitchen through the open window. She didn’t need to look at the letter to know who it was from or what he wanted. She quickly removed the letter from the eagle’s leg before the little monster could attack her and he flew off without a second glance. She had never been more grateful to Draco-pain-in-the-arse-Malfoy.

“Mail, Dear?” Molly asked her.

“Yes, one of my patients needs my services, I’m afraid I have to cut my time here short. Thank you for dinner, it was lovely as always, Molly, and it was nice to finally see everyone again. Hopefully, next time my visit won’t be cut short,” she said, before standing up, saying her goodbyes and exiting out of the kitchen.

She grabbed her coat and slipped it on and made her way towards the shed, when she felt a presence behind her. She knew who it was without having to look.

“Why’d you leave? You could’ve stayed longer,” she spoke.

Oliver shrugged as he stepped up beside her. “There was naw point in mae staying, a only went fer ye. Besides, a knew the line af questioning would change once ye left, an’ a thought it best a get oot whilst a still could.”

“What excuse did you use?”

“Tha’ a had trainin’ in the mornin’ an’ a needed tae get home so a could rest.” She snorted. “What was yer excuse?”

“It wasn’t an excuse,” she huffed. “I really have been contacted by a patient, and no matter how stupid the injury is likely to be, I’m glad for their timing.”

“Ye want tae tell mae what happened with ye an’ Ron?”

“Maybe later,” she replied.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Hermione stepped out of the floo and into the comfort of the manor, sighing in exhaustion before trudging over to the corner suite and slumping down onto it. She groaned when Merlin came running down the hall, barking loudly, before he jumped up onto cushions and climbed over her, licking at her face and putting his weight on her. It took her a few minutes to calm him down and get him to sit beside her, rather than on her.

“Was it ridiculous?” Oliver asked, walking into the living room and sitting on the corner suite opposite her.

“Yes,” she sighed, rubbing her hands over her tired eyes. It had been an exhausting day. “The bloody prat wanted me to remove a thorn he'd gotten stuck in his leg when helping his mother in the gardens.” Oliver snorted. “I have honestly never met someone so whiney in all my life.”

He chuckled as he stood and made his way over to the bar, pouring himself a tumbler of fire whiskey, and one for Hermione when she told him her preferred drink. He handed it to her and watched in surprise as she downed the entire amount without so much as a cough. She put the tumbler on the table and sank back into the cushions.

“Ye wanna tell mae what happened with Ron?”

She groaned and pressed her fingers to her temples, trying to ward off the headache. “We broke up.”

“Am sorry?” He said confused.

“I broke up with my best friend,” she shrugged. “I’m done with him, the night of the attack isn’t the first time he’s let me down and I can’t take it anymore. I can’t forget what he’s done in the past, his actions, his words, and I can’t stop myself for blaming him for what happened. When he saw that I was mad at him for leaving me at the bar, he accused me of being jealous. As if I would be jealous, I have more self-respect for myself, than a woman who would willingly sleep with a man they had literally just met on the street. I’m not a prude, but I could never do that. I’ve had it with him and I told him. We’re no longer friends.”

He stared at her in surprise; he was not expecting that to be her answer.

“If I want to move forward, then I need to distance myself from the things that remind me of what happened. I need to surround myself with people I trust, and Ron is not one of them.”

She leaned her head against the backrest and closed her eyes.

“Damsel, aboot me ma...”

“It’s alright, Oliver, you don’t have to tell me. I would never dream of intruding on your privacy, any more than I have at least,” she interrupted.

“Ye havnae intruded on me privacy, anythin’ ye know is what a wanted ye tae know or see,” he argued. “An’ a should’ve told ye aboot me Ma.” She opened her eyes and sat up, giving him her full attention. “She’s not been well since a turned seventeen. One day she was fine, an’ then suddenly she wasnae. She was always tired, she stopped eating, she was running a fever. The healers said it was stress, they gave her treatment an’ she started getting better. A couple months later, she started having chest pains an’ she struggled with her breathing an’ she couldn’t stop coughing.”

Hermione frowned, her mind running a mile a minute in trying to connect the symptoms to a possible cause.

“The healer’s dinnae know what tae do tae help her. They gave her all the treatment they possibly could but nothin’ seemed tae be working. They couldn’t diagnose her condition, so they couldn’t give her the treatment she needed.”

Hermione looked to him, seeing him staring at the ground and swirling the orange liquid in the tumbler that was held in his hand. She stood up and moved so that she sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of him, their knees almost touching.

He lifted his gaze from the ground and to her, seeing her eyes filled with softness and kindness, and he felt himself slipping his free hand into hers and she gave it a light squeeze.

“Whilst we waited her health would switch between good an’ bad. Some days ye couldn’t stop her, an’ others she couldn’t even get oot af bed withoot help. It wasnae until a turned twenty tha’ me Ma’s illness was finally diagnosed.”

“It’s a muggle illness, isn’t it?” she said softly. The only reason for it taking three years to get a diagnosis was if the healers didn’t know what they were looking at, and in that case, it was nearly always a muggle condition.

“Aye,” he sighed. “There was a Half-blood healer tha’ had been raised in The Muggle World, he was doin’ a rotation at St. Mungo’s when he came across me Ma during one af her monthly visitations. He had her diagnosed within a week.”

“And?”

“Her condition has worsened, an’ now, as aff a few months ago, she has stage three Lung Cancer.” Hermione felt her breath hitch and she accidentally squeezed his hand tightly. “The healers don’ know what tae do fer her. They’re jus’ giving her treatment tae help with the individual symptoms, but nothin’ fer the cancer itself. Thomas is doin’ his best fer her, he checks on her regularly, but he’s a Half-blood born to The Wizarding World, there’s not much he can do fer her either.”

She wanted to apologise, but she felt it wasn’t enough, she didn’t feel it would do any good for him or his Mother.

“It’s a waiting game now,” Oliver shrugged, looking back down to the ground and downing the rest of his fire whiskey to fill the silence in the room.

She gripped his hand tighter and he pulled his eyes up to her.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

“It’s alright, Damsel, there’s nothin’ ye can do,” he said with a sad smile.

“What if there is?” she asked quietly.

He frowned. “What do ye mean?”

“What if there was something I could do that might help?”

“A don’ understand.”

“Oliver, I’m a Muggleborn, born to the Muggle World. I know of cancer more than any wizarding born healer. Would your mother consider muggle treatment? There are two forms of treatment, radio and chemotherapy, and these treatments are used to try and treat cancer patients. Sometimes they are successful, sometimes they aren’t. There are some side effects to it, but they have been to known to ‘cure’ some cancer patients.”

“A would have tae speak tae her aboot it, but she’s not eligible fer muggle treatments.”

She smiled at him. “Leave that with me, I have someone that owes me a favour that can help with that. If your mother agrees to it, I can have an appointment arranged between her and a muggle doctor, he will ensure that the diagnosis is correct and then he will go over the list of possible treatments, and he will be able to explain them in a lot more detail than I. It may work, it may not, but your Mother has to decide if she wants to take that risk.”

“Ye would do tha’ fer me?”

“Of course I would, you’re important to me, and if you need my help then you have it.”

She found herself being pulled into a hug. “Thank ye,” he muttered quietly.

“You don’t need to thank me,” she replied.

When she pulled back from him, he was staring at her so intensely she felt herself blush. She cleared her throat, and then her wand started buzzing, drawing her attention. She pulled it out of her pocket and sighed.

“I better go; it seems I’m needed again.”

She removed her hand from his, stood from the table and made her way over to the door.

“It’s Malloy, int it? That’s where yer’ve been disappearing tae ev’ry night.”

She stopped and turned to face him. “You know I can neither confirm nor deny that.”

He nodded. “Yer taking good care af him,” he stated. “We’ve all noticed a difference in him in the last few days. It’s subtle, but it’s there.”

“Don’t worry about him, I’ll have him sorted out sooner or later, despite how stubborn he’s being, he’ll give in to me eventually. I’ll see you later.”

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate - Monday 7th December 1998**

Hermione trudged into the living room of Wood Manor during the early hours of the morning. Malloy had gone off schedule and had started drinking earlier that he had been. She arrived at his apartment not long after nine, and after taking the fire whiskey from him and dumping it down the sink, she spent the next few hours, sat on the armchair with her staring at him in silence and with him refusing to look at her.

He still refused to answer her questions, but this time he hadn’t stormed away from her until she had sent him to bed not long after one in the morning. She’d found more alcohol hidden about the place and secured it in the cupboard, before leaving him to his sleep.

She slumped onto the corner suite, falling onto her side and pulling her feet up on the cushions. If she fell asleep there, she didn’t care. She was exhausted and could sleep anywhere.

“How’d it go?”

Hermione jumped and sat up, her eyes searching the room in the dark, before landing on Oliver’s figure sat opposite her. She waved her wand and a few floating candles appeared before she slumped back down onto the cushions with a groan.

“A see,” he said, and Hermione noted that he sounded tired.

“Why are you not asleep, you have training?”

He shrugged, “Couldn’t sleep. A went tae see me ma.”

Hermione opened her eyes and pulled a cushion underneath her head to lift it slightly.

“And?”

“She’s agreed tae try it. She’s always been the kind af person tae try somethin’ once,” he said, a fond smile pulling at his mouth. “A went tae Thomas first, me Ma wanted tae know hoo a came aboot this treatment an’ not wanting tae tell her aboot ye incase it got oot, a said a had a source, an’ Thomas backed mae up, which sealed the deal.”

“That’s good to hear, I’ll contact my guy once I’ve had some sleep. There’s no need for you to hide anything from him.”

“Why not?” He frowned. 

“He’s a Squib and he grew up in the Muggle World when his Pure-blooded family disowned him. He was adopted by a muggle couple when he was still young,” she shrugged. “He knows about magic, so you don’t have to worry about anything.”

“An’ this treatment will work?” he asked quietly.

“I’m not going to lie to you, Oliver, this treatment isn’t going to offer a one hundred percent chance of success. For some it is successful, for others, it, unfortunately, isn’t, but the doctor will go over all of that with you. But I will tell you this, when I was a child before I even knew about my magic, my Grandmother was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was eight years old and I still remember the toll it took on her, on her health and her happiness. She had given up and resigned herself to dying, but my family was able to convince her to give chemotherapy a try. A year later, after chemotherapy and a mastectomy, she was healthy and back to her old self, and cancer-free. She died in a car crash when I was sixteen, but I had still gotten another eight years with her. She always used to say that despite all of the side effects she had to deal with, it was worth it.”

“I can’t promise that it’s going to work, but I can promise that it’s going to give your mother the best chance possible. They may be able to cure it, they may not. But with both muggle and wizarding healing in play, she’s got a good shot at this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way, just as you have been with me.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

**Wood Estate - Monday 14th December 1998**

“Where are ye aff tae, a’ve jus’ finished making dinner?” Oliver asked with a raised eyebrow and leaning against the corner suite with his arms crossed over his chest.

Hermione slipped on her robes and scratched Merlin on the head, before slipping her wand into her pocket. “I’ve been summoned,” she sighed.

Oliver’s eyes moved over to the clock, seeing that it was not long after six o’clock.

“A’ve made tha’ chicken pie, ye like,” he commented.

She made a noise in the back of her throat. “I’m just going to have to go hungry until I get back,” she sighed.

“Or ye could take it with ye, yer going tae see Malloy aren’t ye?”

“I can’t tell you and you know that.”

He shrugged. “A’ll put some on a plate fer ye, a’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the kitchen and reappeared minutes later with two plates in hand. She raised an eyebrow but took them both from him with a smile of thanks.

“Right, I’ll see you later, hopefully, I’m not kept until the early of the morning again.”

With those words, she disappeared out of the room, down the stairs and outside to the apparition point.

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment**

With the plates in her hand, she struggled to knock on the door so she settled for giving it a kick with her foot to alert Malloy to her presence. The door opened soon after, as if he had been waiting by the door for her, but by now, he could’ve very well been.

It had been a week since the dinner at The Burrow and every day since, Hermione had been spending her evenings and the early hours of the morning with Malloy, trying to get him to open up to her, but he was still resisting. He was the most stubborn person she had ever met, and he outstripped Harry by miles.

When his eyes landed on her, he raised an eyebrow at the plates of food in her hand, before taking a swig from the fire whiskey bottle in his hand and doing so with his eyes locked on hers. She gave him a look of disappointment, before walking into the apartment and into the kitchen, placing the plates on the table and then walking over to him, taking the bottle from him and emptying it down the sink.

She rummaged around in his kitchen drawers and found two forks and then took a seat at the table and she started eating in silence, feeling his eyes on her but ignoring him. Two could play that game.

She was halfway through eating her meal when the chair opposite her scraped across the floor and Malloy sat down, poking at his food with his fork and reluctantly taking a mouthful. A look of surprise entered his eyes before he continued eating.

“You cook?”

Hermione lifted her eyes to him, and then lowered them back down to her plate. He sighed, knowing what she was doing.

“Alright, I get it,” he mumbled.

“Do you?” She replied, but it sounded more as if she were talking to herself than him.

“Yes, you’re annoyed that I won’t answer any of your questions,” he grumbled.

She lifted her eyes and then sighed. Pushing him away when he was willingly talking to her was a stupid thing to do. He wasn’t opening up to her in the way she wanted, but it was a start.

“No, I don’t cook, I’m rubbish. A friend of mine made it. I was with him when I was alerted to my presence being needed here.”

“It’s good,” he shrugged.

“I’ll tell him you said that,” she replied.

They fell silent and once Hermione had finished eating, she sat back in her chair and watched Malloy carefully. He finished not long after her and she took the plates to the sink, feeling his eyes on her as she washed and dried them the muggle way, before putting the forks away and putting the plates on the side, ready for her to take back to the manor.

“Why didn’t you use magic?”

She looked over her shoulder, before turning around and leaning back against the counter.

“I’m a Muggleborn,” she replied.

“There’s not a wizard or witch that doesn’t know who you are,” he said.

She shrugged. “Sometimes I like to do things the muggle way, I was raised in the Muggle World until I received my Hogwarts letter of acceptance. By doing things the muggle way, it reminds me of where I came from and to not to take magic for granted. In addition to that, once I was legally allowed to practice magic outside of school, my parents would get upset when they saw that I used magic to do things I could’ve easily done myself.”

He frowned. “Why? You would think they would be proud of you.”

She ran a hand through her hair, and a sad smile appeared on her face. “I love my parents, and they love me, I know they do, but with them being muggles, they find it difficult to understand magic. When they learned of my grades at school, they were proud of me, but they were also sad because they couldn’t understand what it was I was learning, they can’t understand my life here. They know I’m a magical doctor, and believe me, they were beyond happy when they learned I had qualified to become a healer, but they don’t understand the injuries and illnesses that I deal with or the treatments I provide. Growing up, it was a strict rule to not bring up magic unless they asked me a question. They didn’t understand it so they avoided it.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he spluttered. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your magic, and you shouldn’t let them treat you as such, parents or not.”

She smiled at him softly and her head tipped to the side slightly.

“It may be ridiculous, Ben, but you have to look at it from their point of view. Growing up, strange things would happen around me and none of us knew what it was. When Professor McGonagall arrived with my Hogwarts letter, everything just fell into place and we understand what it was that was happening to me. They were pleased they had answers, they were happy to know that what was happening to me was normal, they were surprised to learn of the existence of magic and they were proud that I was special, but they could never understand our world, not like we do. They tried to, but after a while, it just became a rule to not speak of magic.”

He frowned still, looking at her with an almost apologetic look, as if he could apologise for her parents’ actions. This was the longest conversation she’d had with him and she saw an opportunity and took it.

“What about your parents?” She asked.

“What?” he said stupidly.

“Your parents,” she clarified.

“They’re not around anymore,” he muttered, she was going to press further but the look he held on his face told her she wouldn’t get the answers she wanted from him. She would call it quits for the night.

She stepped away from the counter and dug her hand into her pocket, pulling out a muggle deck of cards. “Come on then, Ben, let’s play a game.”

“A game?” He questioned with a frown, eyeing her as if she had an ulterior motive.

“A game, let’s go.”

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment - Tuesday 15th December 1998**

“I don’t think so,” Hermione said lightly.

She took the fire whiskey bottle from him and walked over to the sink, tipping the contents down the drain. Hermione noticed that there were only a few sips missing from the bottle. It was progress.

He didn’t reply, but he did walk over to the couch and he sat himself down on the cushions, before shuffling the coffee table a bit closer to him. He looked at Hermione expectantly and she snorted as she made her way over to the armchair, sitting down and removing the deck of cards from her robe pocket.

Hermione wasted no time in setting up the cards for a game of poker. A concentrated frown appeared on his face as he stared at the cards in his hand, trying to work out the best option that would allow him to win.

“Do you have any siblings?” He asked her, placing two cards on the table and Hermione dealt them out to him, before retrieving two cards for herself. “I’ve never heard mention of one, but with you being a Muggleborn, it may have meant that any siblings you have may be muggles.”

“No, I don’t have any siblings,” she replied, putting down her hand and frowning when his hand was better than hers. He smiled smugly, before taking the deck from her and dealing the next hand. “My parents always wanted more children, they struggled with conceiving children, my mother had two miscarriages before me, they had been married ten years before I was born. Once they had me, despite wanting a sibling for me to grow up with, after another miscarriage when I was three years old, they both came to the decision to no longer try. They couldn’t take the pain anymore. They had considered adoption but then my accidental magic made an appearance and unsure of what was happening, they decided against it.”

She put three cards down and he dealt them out to her, before taking two for himself.

“Do you have any siblings?”

He shook his head. “No, I always wanted a little brother or sister, but my parents didn’t want anymore. It was an arranged marriage and they hated each other, they were only with each other long enough to produce an heir. Once I was born, they hardly saw each other.”

Hermione frowned. That was no environment for a child to grow up in. She blinked when he put his cards down, showing that he had beaten her again.

By the time Hermione had sent him to bed, and it hadn’t been easy, it was a little after midnight. She placed the deck of cards back in her pocket, before summoning the alcohol hidden around the room.

Hermione blinked in surprise as only one bottle came to her, opposed to the several that she had been finding over the last couple of weeks. A smile crept onto her face as she locked it away in the warded cupboard and then returned to the manor.

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment – Thursday 17th December 1998**

Hermione entered the apartment, took the bottle of fire whiskey from him and poured it down the drain before she rummaged around in the cupboards and pulled out two glasses along with the jug of pumpkin juice he kept in the cooling cupboard. After pouring two glasses, she made her way to the living room, deposited the beverages on the table and pulled out the deck of cards.

“So, did you attend Hogwarts?” She asked him, her eyes scanning the cards in her hands, and looking at the card on the table. They were playing jacks, twos and eights this time.

He nodded. “I spent my first two years of schooling at Durmstrang.” Hermione raised an eyebrow. “My father didn’t like Dumbledore, thought he was an old coot,” he shrugged and Hermione snorted. “He sent me to Durmstrang, they’re not known for their warm and caring environment.”

Hermione knew that all too well; Viktor had told her what it was like to grow up in Durmstrang and the fit of rage it had sent her into had surprised him. He had to restrain her from storming the castle and giving Karkaroff a piece of her mind. He’d locked her inside an abandoned classroom and watched her as she raged and paced and flung curses at the walls. She had never had someone look at her so intensely before and still shivered when she remembered the way he had backed her up until her back had hit the wall and he’d snogged her until she could barely remember her own name.

“My mother put her foot down; she wanted to send me to Beauxbatons since it was closer to her. My father refused to send me to a school for, and I quote, ‘pansied minded incompetents.’ Despite his dislike for Dumbledore, they came to an agreement and I transferred to Hogwarts for my third year,” he shrugged. “Despite how strange Dumbledore was, Hogwarts was a good school.”

“Did you always want to be a Quidditch player?”

“No, don’t get me wrong, I love the sport, but I wanted to be a Professor of Arithmancy, it was my favourite subject in school.”

Hermione blinked in surprise, Arithmancy was a difficult subject which was why it wasn’t popular with the students. Even she had struggled a few times with some of the problems she’d had to solve for homework and it hadn’t been easy for to get an O in her exams, but she’d pulled it off.

“My father forbid me from pursuing a career within education when I told him of my wishes in my fifth year. I threw myself into Quidditch, I loved flying, it was the only place I was free of expectations, there was no one telling me what to do or how to behave. By the time I graduated, there was some interest in me from scouts of the league, and with not many options available, I took their offer. I spent three years going from one league team to the next before Puddlemere accepted me as a reserve. A couple of years later, one of the chasers retired and I took his place.”

“Do you regret it?” She asked.

“No, at least I got to do something that I actually wanted to do, that I actually liked. Did you always want to be a healer?” He asked her.

“No, I wanted to work for the Ministry with the RCMC department, helping to better the lives of magical beings and creatures that are treated poorly, helping them have basic human rights and ensuring that they could live safely and happily.”

“What changed?”

“The war came,” she sighed and rubbed a hand over her face. “I knew that I would be needed and I knew that there was going to be so many injured and in need of help. I knew there wouldn’t be enough healers to keep up with it all, especially when Voldemort...” He flinched. “Took control of The Ministry and St. Mungo’s. The healers were forced to heal Death Eaters and sympathisers, and those that fought on the opposite side of the war had to suffer. I knew I couldn’t stand back and watch it happen; I had to help where I could. So, when I was still in Hogwarts, I was secretly taken under the wing of a healer and he taught me everything I know. I trained under him for years.”

“When the war ended, I took my healer examinations and I passed. Since I had practical experience spanning a few years, as well as references from some other healers and influential people I didn’t need to do a residency. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I am not the one that is going to be able to help these poor creatures in the way they deserve, but someone else will. I love my job, it brings me into contact with people from different walks of life, from different backgrounds and occupations, and I get to help them. I’ve yet to fail a patient, and I’m not going to start now.”

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment – Friday 18th December 1998**

Hermione knocked on the door and Malloy opened it, stepping aside to let her inside. He shut the door behind her and Hermione reached for the bottle of fire whiskey held in his hand, but he stepped away from her and held it over his head so she couldn’t reach.

She stared at him, her eyes darting between the full bottle of fire whiskey that looked to have been barely opened and the frightened look that spread through Malloy’s eyes.

She frowned when he took a deep breath and then walked away from her, over to the kitchen and stopping in front of the sink. She watched silently as Malloy removed the lid from the bottle, and then with his gaze locked on hers, he tipped the entire bottle down the drain and put the empty bottle into the nearby bin.

Hermione was surprised, to say the least, but she felt pride fill her at his actions. She watched as he disappeared into the bathroom, then into his bedroom, and then he dug his hand between the couch cushions, leaving him holding three more bottles. All of which, he poured down the sink until there was nothing left.

He drew in a shaky breath and she watched as his hands shook as he placed empty bottles into the bin. He made his way over to the living room and sat on the couch, his hands fisted into his practice robes which he had yet to change out of.

He looked to her and she slowly made her way to the armchair, taking a seat and remaining silent. She had a feeling this would be the day she had been waiting for.

“Ask me?” He spoke, his voice quiet and his eyes trained on the floor.

“Why do you drink, Ben? What are you trying to get away from?” She asked him softly.

“I want to get away from the memories,” he replied quietly. “I want to forget everything. Do you know who my parents are, Hermione?” She shook her head, but he didn’t see with his eyes looking to the ground, but he took her silence as her answer. “My mother, she wasn’t from here, she was originally from France, a Pureblood from the House of Labelle. She had been arranged to marry my Father from the age of eleven, and married him not even a week after she graduated from Beauxbatons. She hated him,” he whispered. “My father was also a Pure-blood, and given my name, I’m sure it’s not unusual for you to learn that we are distantly related to The Malfoys. Both Houses originated from France, there was a disagreement five centuries ago in which my many greats of Grandfathers went to court and had their assets split between them. One of them moved to Britain and kept the name Malfoy, the other changed their name to Malloy. My family moved to Britain less than two centuries ago.”

“My father, he wasn’t a nice man, he treated me as though I were nothing but dirt on the ground he walked on and my Mother he treated even worse. He wasn’t afraid to raise his wand to either of us...” his voice trailed off and he took a shuddering breath.

He finally looked up at her and she saw guilt and tears swimming in his eyes.

“He was a Pureblood supremacist, he was a Death Eater.” Hermione’s only response was that of her eyes widening slightly. “He spent my childhood drilling it into me that Muggleborns were vile, useless, barbaric, undeserving of their magic which they stole. But my mother, she would heal me of the injuries he gave me and speak her own views, but she never pushed them on me. She told me of a Muggleborn friend she had in Beauxbatons. They were inseparable for the seven years of their schooling. She spent part of her summers with their family, and she told me of everything she’d learned, and everything she spoke disproved my Father’s words.”

“When I was in my sixth year, I received word that my mother had died. The report stated that she’d fallen over the safety barrier on the balcony of the manor house. It was ruled an accident. I knew otherwise. I knew he’d killed her. I was pulled out of school for a week to grieve and attend her funeral. I confronted him; he didn’t even deny what he’d done. He laughed in my face, told me she deserved it for disobeying him, for coddling me.”

Hermione could feel her eyes stinging with the effort to hold back her tears, but it was futile as they fell the moment she saw his tears trailing down his cheeks.

“When I turned seventeen, I got as far away from him as I could, and then You-Know-Who returned. My father insisted that I take the mark, insisted that I did my duty of the heir to House Malloy to protect it from the abominations that were Muggleborns and blood traitors. I refused, and he disowned me.”

“After the war was over, I learned that he’d been captured somewhere in Wales, he was sentenced to Azkaban. With other high profile cases such as the Malfoys, Lestranges and Notts, my father’s case was overlooked by the public and therefore my association with him is unknown. He died not even a month after being there.”

Hermione took a shuddering breath of her own before she stood and moved to sit beside him on the couch. She lifted a hand and placed it against his shoulder, and with that contact, he broke down.

His tears fell forcefully and his shoulders shook with his wracking sobs. He doubled over on himself, his body twisting so that he could rest his head in her lap as he sobbed. Hermione didn’t say anything, she just placed a hand against his back and rubbed comforting circles and her other hand went into his hair, pushing it back from his face and running her fingers through it lightly.

She didn’t know how long she’d sat there for, silently crying as she comforted the Quidditch player, but even as his sobs died down and he’d fallen quiet, she continued to run her hands through his hair. She had thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Thank you,” a cracked voice whispered. “Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for caring.”

Bloody hell, she felt her chest tighten painfully, as if her heart broke with his words. She took a deep breath, pushing back the tears that threatened to fall again.

“I’m not just your healer, Ben, I’m your friend,” she said softly. “I make it a point to bond with each of my patients. I want them to trust me, to understand that I truly do care for their health and well-being. And the same goes for you. I thank you for sharing your secret with me, I know it was hard and it took a great deal of courage, I’m proud of you. I’m going to help you, but I need you to understand that drinking yourself to death isn’t the answer.”

He nodded before he pushed himself up and away from her. His face was blotchy and his eyes were red and puffy. “I need help,” he whispered.

“And I’m going to help you,” she promised. “For now, I want you to go to bed and get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning; I’ll be here bright and early.” He frowned. “I’m going to owl the stadium and let them know that it isn’t safe for you to be training. As your healer, they have no choice but to listen. And you can argue with me all you want, I’m not letting you anywhere near the stadium tomorrow. If things go to plan, you can return on Monday.” He reluctantly nodded. “Good, now get yourself to bed and get some rest.”

He stood and made his way to his bedroom; he turned and looked over his shoulder before disappearing from her view.

Hermione sighed and flopped back against the couch.

 _Finally!_ She thought relieved. 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Wood Estate– Friday 18th December 1998**

Hermione stepped into the living room of the manor and yawned loudly, before shrugging off her robes and slinging them over the back of the corner suite as she collapsed into the cushions. She caught sight of the clock above the fireplace and realised that it wasn’t as late as she’d thought it would be. She’s gone to Malloy’s apartment a little after six o’clock, and now it was only half-eleven.

She groaned and pushed her face into one of the cushions and she turned her head slightly, opening one eye to see Oliver walking into the room, dressed in a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms and a white t-shirt, as he plopped himself down beside her.

“Ev’rything alright?” He asked.

She sighed and lifted herself up until she leaned back into the cushions and she turned her head towards him. He frowned when he noticed her tear-stained face in the flicking light of the floating candles.

“What happened?” He asked, looking worried and Hermione gave him a small smile at his concern for her.

“Let’s just say, my hard work’s paid off.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ve finally gotten through to my patient and they’ve accepted they need help. That’s the most difficult part of my job.”

“Malloy’s asked fer yer help?” He asked surprised.

“I can’t tell you the name of my patient, but if I were you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re a teammate down tomorrow.”

“Alright, thanks fer the heads up. It’s nothin’ serious, right?”

“No,” she shook her head. “They’re not hurt, I just need to spend the day with them tomorrow, I have a plan and I’m hoping it’ll help.” She brought her hands up to her neck and rubbed over them, before bending her neck this way then that way. “So, has Doctor Clay taken care of your mum?”

A smile pulled at his mouth and he nodded. “Aye, he has. He’s confirmed tha’ the diagnosis is correct, me ma’s agreed tae try the treatment. Her first round af chemotherapy is Tuesday.”

“That was quick, even if he did owe me a favour,” she said surprised.

“Am takin’ the mornin’ aff from training, her appointment’s scheduled fer ten o’clock. Me da’s gunna be oot af the country, so he cannae make it.”

She eyed him carefully. “Do you want me to come with you?”

“A was thinkin’ af asking ye, but a don’ wanna put ye in any danger.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oliver, you’re my friend, if you want me to come with to help ease your worries, as well as your Mum’s, then I will. We’ll be in The Muggle World,” she reminded him.

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank ye.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” she smiled.

Her head dropped back, her eyes catching the ceiling decorations the house-elves had put up with Christmas being only a week away. She’d have to venture out at some point and finish her Christmas shopping. Thankfully, she’d had the thought to start shopping in October, so she was almost finished. She just had to get something for her parents and Oliver.

“What are you doing for Christmas?” She asked him. They hadn’t yet discussed their plans for the holidays, so she thought it about time to bring the subject up.

“Am spending a few days with me parents at their house. They’re expecting mae Christmas mornin’. What are ye doin?”

“The same, I’m going to visit my parents on Christmas morning, and some point during the day, I’ll have to floo over to The Burrow for a few hours. I’m not looking forward to it, but thanks to you, I should be able to get through it. I’m visiting the rest of my family with my parents on Boxing Day, we’re all getting together as a sort of family reunion,” she grimaced.

“Not looking ferward tae it?” He asked amused.

She groaned. “No, they’re awful.” He looked at her questioningly.

She sighed before kicking off her shoes and pulling her feet up, turning her body and resting her head against her hand, which she had propped up on the back of the corner suite. He shuffled his body to better face her and rested an arm over the back of the corner suite, his hand almost touching her arm.

“Seriously, Oliver, they’re awful, the lot of them. My mum has two sisters, Claire and Karen, and my dad has a sister and a brother, Lindsay and Graham. Uncle Graham isn’t so bad, but my Aunts are terrible human beings, and my cousins are even worse. I’m the youngest of seven in my family. Aunt Claire has two daughters, Rachel and Jessica, Aunt Karen has a daughter, Jasmine, Aunt Lindsay has a son, Nathan, and Uncle Graham has a son and daughter, Adam and Marie. Adam and Nathan aren’t that bad actually; they just tease me seeing as I’m the youngest, they’re both in their thirties, but the girls...” She shook her head. “They’re truly awful, like Pansy Parkinson, awful.”

He winced in sympathy, he didn’t remember much about the girl, but what he did remember wasn’t pleasant.

“Exactly, they’ve hated me from a young age. My Grandma Anne, I was always her favourite before she died, and when she did die, she left me quite a bit of money, more than them, and they’ve never gotten over it. On top of that, they’ve hated me even more ever since I was accepted into Hogwarts. All they knew was that I had been accepted into a highly prestigious and secret boarding school for those with exceptional talents.”

“They’re jealous,” he stated.

“I suppose so,” she nodded. “They’ve hated me for years, and my Aunts haven’t been kind either. They always used to make fun of me, for my appearance, my lack of friends, my lack of a boyfriend,” she rolled her eyes. “I haven’t seen them in a few years, so this is going to be fun. Thankfully it’s only for the day and we won’t see each other again for at least another year.”

“A wish ye luck,” he chuckled.

“I’m going to need it, if I end up in muggle prison for murder, don’t be surprised.” He snorted at her. He raised his eyebrow when he saw her looking at him and biting her lip nervously.

“What?”

“What are you doing Christmas Eve?” She asked him.

“As far as am aware, nothin’, we train half day an’ we don’ return tae the stadium until the day after New Year’s. Why?”

“Do you want to be my plus one to The Malfoy’s Christmas Ball? Narcissa’s sort of emotionally blackmailed into going as she bought me a dress, so I have to go or I’ll feel awful. There’s going to be a lot of people there, but I’d feel a lot more comfortable if I knew you were there too.”

“Ye were worried aboot us being seen tagether by the wrong people,” he reminded.

“That’s not a problem, it’s a masquerade ball; no one will know our identities.”

He nodded slowly in thought. “Alright, a’ll go tae this ball with ye.”

“Yeah?” She asked, looking relieved.

“Aye,” he nodded.

“Oh thank God,” she sighed. “At least it’ll be bearable now.”

“Ye know, a don’ think a’ve ever seen ye dressed up fer a ball befere,” he mused.

“Don’t get used to it, as I said, I’m only going because Narcissa used emotional blackmail.”

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment - Saturday 19th December 1998**

“Right, Ben, grab your coat, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

“And where is that?” He asked, but he summoned a warm cloak from his bedroom and fastened it around himself, hiding his jumper and jeans from view.

“We’re going to make a visitation or two,” she replied, before heading out of the apartment, into the elevator and stepping out onto the street.

She held her hand out for him and he eyed it carefully.

“I don’t bite, Ben,” she rolled her eyes.

He grumbled a reply which she didn’t hear, before slipping his hand into hers and feeling the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube.

~000~000~000~

His eyes looked around his surroundings, not recognising where he was but seeing nothing but trees and the ground covered in snow.

“Where are we?”

She didn’t reply, but she tugged him forward until they came to a gate which swung open with a touch of her wand. She pulled him through the gate and it soon became clear where they were when he saw rows upon rows and snow-covered headstones.

He eyed her from the corner of his eye as she pulled him through the cemetery until she suddenly stopped and he almost slipped in the snow.

“You’ve got a lot of anger and sadness in you, you’ve got a lot you need to get off your chest, and now that you’ve said it to me, you need to say it to someone else.” She pointed towards a headstone that was three across from him and he frowned. “You may not understand why I’ve brought you here, but trust me, you need to do this and you’ll feel better afterwards.”

She squeezed his hand before letting go and walking back the way she came to give him some privacy. She stood waiting for him outside the gate, shuffling on her feet and her hands stuffed in the pockets of her pea coat. She didn’t want to bring him here, but he really did need to get everything off his chest. Telling her how he felt had been the first step, the next step was telling his Father.

She waited for close to twenty minutes before she heard a ‘bang’ and before she could rush to see what happened, Ben appeared in her line of sight. His face red, whether that was from the cold or anger was anyone’s guess, he slipped his wand under his cloak and he stopped before her.

There was a lot of anger and hatred on his face before he shut his eyes and took a clam, steadying breath. When he opened his eyes, a look of acceptance and calmness appeared.

“I get it,” was all he said to her. “I didn’t think I would, but I feel lighter, less burdened.” She nodded with a soft smile on her face. “How did you find him?”

“I checked the records at The Ministry before I arrived at your apartment,” she answered. “One more to go,” she told him, and he took her hand when she offered it.

~000~000~000~

“My mother?” He questioned knowingly, as he stood before a gate that led to a mausoleum.

“Yes, you feel a lot of guilt for what happened to her, but it’s not your fault, and visiting her will help you to see that.”

He nodded, before taking a deep breath and making his way towards the small building and he disappeared behind the door. Hermione sat on the bench and waited for him to return. He spent almost an hour in there, but she didn’t complain.

“How are you feeling?” She asked when he sat down beside her.

“Like I need a drink,” he replied. She glared at him and he chuckled. “Relax, Hermione, I meant a cup of tea, even with Warming Charms it's bloody cold.”

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment**

Hermione sat at the kitchen across from Malloy as she sipped at her tea and she watched him quietly, waiting for him to speak. She was already on her third cup of tea and Malloy hadn’t spoken since they returned to his apartment nearly two hours prior.

He surprised her when he stood from the table and walked over to the warded cupboard where all of his confiscated alcohol was held. Hermione had lost count of how many bottles were in there, but it couldn’t be far off from sixty or so.

“Will you open it?” He asked her. “I need to get rid of all temptation and even though I know it’s warded to prevent me from opening it, there’s still temptation because I know what’s behind that door.”

She put her mug on the table before walking over to him and with a wave of her wand, the warded cupboard recognised her magical signature and it swung open, revealing bottles of different, sizes, shapes and filled with different coloured liquids. Malloy reached for a bottle, elf wine she noted, and he opened it and made to pour it down the drain.

“Wait,” she said softly. He stopped and turned his head to look at her, the bottle still held over the sink. “I have a better idea.”

He watched her carefully as she conjured up a large container, and with a flick of her wand all the bottles emptied from the cupboard and filled the box to the brim. He still tipped the bottle down the drain, needing to convince himself that he could do it, that he would get through it with Hermione’s help.

“Let’s for a walk,” she said, shrinking down the box and slipping it into her pocket.

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

They were on the very outskirts of Diagon Alley, and despite worrying that she’d had a panic attack, she focused her attention on Malloy and that kept her from remembering her own problems.

They came to a stop in front of a large house that had seen better days, the windows could do with a good clean, the woodwork needed repainting and the steps leading up to the house needed a little repair work.

“Where are we?” He asked her.

“I do my best to visit at least once a week, but sometimes work gets on top of me. The children love meeting new people,” she spoke, as she approached the house.

“Children?” He questioned with a frown, his eyes scanning the old house in front of him. “Wait, is this...”

“The Orphanage, yes, it is.”

“Why are we bringing alcohol to an orphanage?”

“They’re low on funds and are struggling to provide for the children, since they have a budget given to them by The Ministry every month and it’s just not enough to care for all the children. We’re having a fundraiser event in a few months; they can use the alcohol as raffle prizes. There must be hundreds of galleons worth of alcohol in the box.”

Hermione knocked on the door and after hearing running footsteps, it opened with a little girl stood behind it. She couldn’t have been older than eight, her blonde hair was tied in pigtails, her blue dress looked a little dirty and ragged and her green eyes lit up when she saw Hermione.

“Hermione!” She shrieked, before throwing herself forward and wrapping her arms around Hermione’s waist in a hug.

Hermione chuckled. “I say you’re happy to see me, Hannah.”

“We’ve missed you,” the little girl grinned as she pulled back from Hermione.

“I’ve missed you all too.”

“Who’s that?” She asked, pointing to Malloy who stood beside her and looking up at him shyly.

“This is my friend, Ben. Ben, this little ray of sunshine, is Hannah.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss Hannah,” Ben spoke, giving her a smile that was sure to send his fans into a fit of screams and sighs.

Hannah giggled and ducked her head.

“Is he your boyfriend?” She asked Hermione.

Malloy raised an eyebrow and looked at Hermione amused.

“No, Hannah, he’s just my friend,” she replied.

“You need a boyfriend,” the little girl stated and Hermione scowled at Malloy when he snorted.

“You sound exactly like my Aunts,” Hermione spoke. “Are you through with your interrogation?”

“For now,” Hannah said, making Malloy chuckle as Hannah grabbed Hermione’s hand and dragged her into the house and he followed behind her.

He blinked when a stampede of children came from out of nowhere, all surrounding Hermione and tackling her in a hug. They tried to speak over each other and she laughed at them.

“Alright,” she called and the children quieted down but their grins remained on their faces. “I must first visit with Ms. Nancy, but I will meet you all in the living room soon.”

They grinned before running off and leaving the hall they stood in quiet. Malloy blinked and she snorted at him.

“How many children live here?” He questioned.

He followed behind her and his eyes scanned the faded paint on the woodwork and the peeling wallpaper, its pattern no longer recognisable due to its obvious age and wear and tear.

“As far as I know, there’s seventy-nine children living here, and ten staff that work on rotation. The house is no longer suitable for them to live comfortably and realistically, they could do with being moved to a larger property, but they don’t have the funds to do so. They barely have enough to continue feeding and clothing the children. This is why we’re having a fundraiser.”

She stopped before a door and before she could knock, it opened and a woman stood before them. She was certainly old enough to be his Grandmother, he would guess she was in her late sixties. Her grey hair was tied back in a bun and her blue eyes were surrounded with wrinkles. She had a kind smile on her face as she addressed them.

“Hermione, it’s wonderful to see you.”

“How’d you know I was here?” Hermione replied amused.

“The children, I thought a herd of hippogriffs were loose at first,” she chuckled. “They do so love when you visit.”

“And I adore each and every one of them,” Hermione smiled. “I would like to introduce you to my friend, Ben Malloy.”

They shook hands.

“That name sounds familiar,” the old woman mused.

“Professional Quidditch player,” Hermione explained.

The woman nodded. “Is he your boyfriend?”

“No, he’s not,” Hermione threw her hands up in the air and Malloy couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of him. “We’ve brought some items than can be used for the fundraiser raffle,” Hermione explained, before digging into her pocket and pulling out the shrunken box and handing it over.

“Thank you, Dear.”

“It’s not me you have to thank,” Hermione replied, nodding to Malloy and he received a smile. “Now, before I visit the children, are there any injuries or illnesses that need my attention?”

“Not unless one of the children have harmed themselves in the last hour.”

Hermione nodded and with a quick fair well, Malloy followed her through the house until they came to a room that was filled with more children than he’d seen in a long time. They were all squashed in, but they didn’t seem to mind that they could barely move without standing on each other.

“Do they accept donations?” Malloy muttered, leaning down slightly so she could hear him over the chatter in the room.

Hermione smiled at him knowingly. “Yes, they do, both Harry and myself donate monthly, but it’s still not enough to move the children to a more suitable property. There’s a limit on what Gringott’s allows to leave a vault monthly, especially with donations.”

“Since when?” He frowned.

“Since we broke in, destroyed the place and stole their blind dragon. They hate us,” she shrugged. He stared at her dumbly as she stepped forward.

“Right children, I’ve brought a guest, do any of you know, Ben Malloy of Puddlemere United?”

He couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth as almost every hand shot up in the air and murmurs of excitement filled his ears.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Hermione flopped down into the cushions and she groaned when Merlin bounded into the room and jumped on her, licking her face and yipping happily. She’d only been back five minutes when the floo roared to life and Oliver stepped out. She noted that he didn’t seem as stressed.

“How was training?” She asked, groaning when Merlin bounded off her and over to greet Oliver.

“Not bad,” he replied, placing his broom on the bar and moving to sit beside her, scratching Merlin behind the ears when he jumped up beside him and sprawled himself across his lap. “We’ve all seen a big difference in Wilks since ye sent him tae St. Mungo’s. Now tha’ he’s got his glasses, it’s like he’s a completely different player.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Hermione smiled. “And the others?”

“They still need a kick up the arse,” he replied. “But they’re a lot better than they were befere.”

“And their brooms?”

“Working on it,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Any injuries?”

“Naw, not this time.”

“And you?”

He shrugged. “Hurt me hand a wee bit, but it’s fine.”

She raised an eyebrow and held her hand out expectantly. He didn’t bother protesting and he put his hand in hers. His eyes were glued to her face as a concentrated frown appeared, she turned his hand this way and that, scanning it for injuries before tracing her fingers over his skin. She dug her thumbs into his hand and he winced.

“You’ve probably pulled a muscle,” she mused. “I’ve got a Muscle Relaxant Cream that should help.”

She dropped his hand and pulled her wand, summoning the tub of cream, before taking his hand once again and applying the cream and massaging it into his hand. He sighed and his head flopped back as she dug her thumbs into his palms and he could feel the pull on his muscles lessen. She finished not long later and he offered her his other hand, she snorted but didn’t say anything as she set to massaging the cream into his hand.

“Hoo was yer day?” He asked.

She looked up at him; he had his eyes closed and his head titled back against the cushions.

“Not bad, I spent half of the day with my patient, I went into Muggle London to finish off my Christmas shopping, and I visited the orphanage.”

“Orphanage?” He questioned, one eye opening to look at her.

“Yes, the children love it when they get visitors; they were beside themselves when I turned up with my patient, dropping off some items for the fundraiser.”

“What fundraiser?”

“The orphanage is holding a fundraiser in a few months time, the budget they get from The Ministry isn’t enough to feed and clothe the children, and the house itself is no longer suitable for the number of children and staff that are housed there. Even with donations, they’re still struggling and they need more money to continue caring for the children. I’ve already spoken to Kingsley and he’s doing his best to sort out an increase in their budget, but the Financial Department is being a pain in the arse. It’s full of stuck up prats that have never had to worry about where their next meal may come from, they’d rather give the money to the MLE Department, and I have respect for what they do, trust me, but they have the highest budget out of all of the departments as it is and they certainly don’t need any more money.”

She finished with his hand and saw him rolling his shoulders before she rolled her eyes and pointed to the ground. A smile pulled at his mouth before he shuffled Merlin off him and he slid on to the floor in front of her. She didn’t ask him to remove his Quidditch jumper, but he did so anyway, leaving the top half of his body bare to her gaze and touch. She placed her hands on his shoulders and massaged the stress and tension out of his body, hearing him sigh and his head flopped forward.

“A take it ye already donate,” he commented.

“Yes, and so does Harry, but with the goblins' hatred towards us, Gringotts has placed a cap on out vaults as punishment. We’re limited to the amount of money we can donate monthly, even if we wanted to donate more, and believe me, we both would, we can’t.”

“Tha’s ridiculous.”

“They don’t care, goblins have always been selfish beings. Their punishment means that these children have to suffer and they still don’t care. I’ve half a mind to remove everything I own from Gringotts, but I don’t have any other options available,” she sighed. “The children have asked if I’d visit them before Christmas but I do that, I need to get their gifts.”

“Gifts?”

“Hmmm,” she hummed, before dragging her thumbs down the back of his neck and he took a shuddering breath and groaned and she chuckled at him. “The children aren’t going to receive a lot this Christmas, as I said; the orphanage can barely afford food and clothing. Harry and I have been transferring some of our funds to a muggle bank for the last few months and the goblins can’t do anything about it since they don’t have jurisdiction in the Muggle World. We’ve placed the funds into a joint account that we can both access, and anything in there now will be used to buy the children new clothing, a toy each for Christmas morning and we’re going to purchase food so the children and staff can have the Christmas feast they deserve. I’m planning on heading into the Muggle Word on Monday so I can get everything.”

“Do ye want mae tae come with ye?” he asked her, a groan slipping from him when she dragged her thumbs down the length of his spine.

“You’ve got training,” she reminded. “I know how much you love your job and I wouldn’t dream of asking you to take a day off so you could help me.”

“It wouldn’t jus’ be fer ye, but fer these kids tae. There’s a reason they’re in an orphanage an’ they’ve been through a lot. They at least deserve tae have a good Christmas an’ a want tae help ye give them tha’.”

She blinked at him in surprise and her hands stilled. He looked over his shoulder at her.

“Why would you do that?” She questioned with a frown.

“These kids obviously mean a lot tae ye an’ a want tae help ye, ye cannae possibly get ev’rything ye need by yerself. If a have tae take a day aff from training, then so be it.”

She blinked again and he felt as though she were staring into his very soul. A smile pulled at her mouth and a soft look entered her eyes; it had him entranced and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her even if he tried.

“Thank you, I don’t know how I could possibly repay you for that,” she spoke.

“Ye don’ have tae, a want tae do this fer ye.”

Her smile widened, showing her perfectly white teeth.

“Thank you,” she said again. “But I still don’t want you to take time away from your training schedule, we can go tomorrow instead.”

“Tha’ fine with mae,” he agreed.

“I hope you like kids,” she mused.

“Why?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“When they see you, they’re going to be ecstatic and nothing is going to be able to calm them down. There’s seventy-nine children and the majority of them favour Puddlemere, and even those that don’t would love to meet you. They’re not going to leave you alone,” she chuckled, and he turned back around as she returned to her previous task of massaging him.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Wood Estate - Sunday 20th December 1998**

“So, what’s the plan?” Oliver asked over breakfast that morning. Hermione had made pancakes after he had all but begged her to.

“Well, we’ll first have to head into Muggle London, and I warn you, it’s going to be very busy with last-minute shoppers trying to get good deals on the remaining products for sale. Thankfully it’s not Christmas Eve, shopping during that day is horrific. I think we should start off with toys first, then move onto clothing and get the food last.”

“Alright,” he agreed. “Do ye not have tae go tae a bank?” he questioned after she hadn’t mentioned needing to visit one.

“No,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Muggles have a device called a debit or credit card, which allows you to make payments without handing over money. The money will be taken out of the bank account and transferred to the business. You’re less likely to get mugged seeing as you’re not carrying cash. The card can only be used by someone that has the four-digit passcode which approves the use of the card upon payments. If the card is stolen, you report it to the bank and they will cancel the access it has to your account and they will send you a new one with a new passcode.”

“Tha’s brilliant,” he said. “Why don’ we have tha’ here?”

She shrugged. “It’s a muggle method and we’re both aware of how the Wizarding World perceives muggles and their technologies and traditions. Here we can just as easily give our vault number and the payment is later transferred over. It’s the same concept, just done slightly differently.”

They finished the last of their breakfast before putting the dishes in the sink to be washed later, and they both headed to their rooms to retrieve their coats and Hermione had a small black leather handbag, hiding her wand and a muggle purse containing a small amount of muggle money, her muggle driving licence as ID and her debit card.

They met back up in the living room before they floo’d to The Leaky Cauldron and stepped out into Muggle London before anyone had a chance to see them together.

~000~000~000~

They’d left for Muggle London not long after nine o’clock and it was now edging towards five in the evening, before Oliver and Hermione stepped into the living room of the manor and flopped down into the soft cushions of the corner suite, both making sighs of relief that they were finally off their aching feet.

“Am exhausted,” Oliver muttered.

“Me too,” she replied tiredly.

They spent hours in the Muggle World looking for gifts and clothing for the children since Hermione was adamant they each get a gift that was unlike the others, uncaring for the money she spent or the looks she’d get from other patrons after she had taken the last available toy that was on the shelves. Oliver was sure that if it would’ve been possible, she’d have died from the many glares she received.

They’d had to make several trips back to the manor in order to drop off the shopping bags since there were too many to carry and too many people to witness them using magic to shrink their purchases down and fit into their pockets.

He turned his head slightly, seeing that the floor, part of the door and the bar here all hidden by the many, _many_ bags that contained the presents for the children. He wasn’t even sure he could count how many there were, given that there were seventy-nine children, each child would receive a toy, three new outfits each and a new pair of shoes each. Not to mention, they’d also bought food so the children could have a feast on Christmas day, he felt sorry for the person who had to cook.

“Fish and chips?”

He turned his head to better see her. She had her eyes closed and her head titled back against the cushions.

“Fish an’ chips,” he agreed. Neither of them had the energy to make dinner. He stood up and moved over to the floo, placing an order with Tom at The Leaky Cauldron.

They didn’t have to wait long to receive their food and Oliver paid for dinner before they sat on the floor and using the coffee table, with Oliver sneaking a chip to Merlin every now and then when Hermione wasn’t looking.

“Now for the fun part,” Hermione said, banishing the rubbish to the kitchen bin.

“The fun part?” he questioned.

She nodded and with a wave of her wand, a box appeared beside her. She opened it up and Oliver peaked over the table to get a look inside, seeing the many rolls of wrapping paper, the ribbons and bows, the gifts tags, a pair of scissors and several rolls of muggle cello-tape. He blinked in surprise, knowing that Hermione must have charmed the box to be bigger on the inside, which meant there were likely more items underneath.

“We have seventy-nine toys to wrap it, as well as seventy-nine pairs of shoes, and two hundred and thirty-seven outfits. All have to be wrapped and correctly labelled with each child’s name.”

Oliver blinked. “It’s gunna take hours,” he spoke.

“Actually, I think it’ll take a few days, and we need it doing no later than Christmas Eve so we can take them to the orphanage, we have the ball that day too.” She corrected and he part groaned part snorted.

“Alright, let’s get a move on then,” he said.

Hermione nodded in agreement before waving her wand and a stack of papers appeared, of which she duplicated so Oliver could have a copy.

He quickly flipped through them, seeing that it seemed to be a register of sorts. Each page was divided in half, with a magical photo of a child along with Hermione and Harry standing next to them. Next to the photo was the name and age of each child, along with a few bullet points that explained that child’s favourite colour, animal, food, Quidditch team, hobby, and anything else they found interesting, but there was also a note made about their shoe and clothing sizes. Upon closer inspection, he recognised the handwriting to be Hermione’s. The neat script was hard to mistaken.

He looked up to see Hermione watching him carefully.

“Harry and I have been planning for Christmas at the orphanage since early August,” she explained. “We decided that since I have the most flexibility with my work, that I would handle the shopping side of it, particularly in the Muggle World. I know Harry’s purchased a few items from Diagon Alley, along with a few brooms so the children can learn to fly, he’s even hired a flying instructor to work with the children for the next year.” Oliver blinked in surprise. “This is why I bought a variety of different toys, using the profiles I’ve created we can match each toy to a specific child.”

Oliver blinked in surprise when she gave him a smile, before she began pulling out supplies from the box, handing him rolls of wrapping paper in different colours and patterns, some cello-tape, gift tags, a muggle marker pen and she duplicated the scissors and gave him a pair. She then summoned a few bags over to them, and she dug into one, pulling out a box that contained a child’s doll. She leafed through the papers before she began wrapping the box meticulously in snowflake patterned paper, securing a pretty blue bow to the gift, along with a gift tag made out to a ‘Madeline,’ and she placed a mark against her name on the papers, reminding her that Madeline had already been given a toy. She smiled to herself and moved it to the side, then she pulled out a remote-controlled car, repeating the process and adding the name ‘Zack’ to the gift tag.

Oliver shook his head before copying her actions, trying his best to match each toy to a child and wrapping the gift, though it wasn’t as neat as Hermione’s, it would do. Anyway, the children were only going to rip the wrapping paper off and it would end up in the bin.

They wrapped presents long into the night and barely making a dent in the shopping bags before they both called it a night and headed to bed.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate - Monday 21st December 1998**

“Do ye have any plans?” Oliver asked her over breakfast that morning.

She picked up her mug and took a sip of her tea as she shook her head. “No, I’m just going to stay here and try and get the rest of the presents wrapped and sorted, ready for the children.”

He snorted. “Yer not gettin’ it all finished taday, there’s still more than half af the toys tha’ need wrapping an’ we havnae even made a start on the clothing or shoes yet.”

“I may have gone a little overboard,” she admitted. He raised an eyebrow. “Fine, I went a _lot_ overboard, but these children are forgotten about. Most of Wizarding London doesn’t even know of the existence of the orphanage, these children deserve better and if I can make their lives a little bit happier by giving them a toy and some new clothes, then I will.”

“People don’ know it’s there?” he asked in surprise.

She shook her head. “It’s on the outskirts of Diagon Alley, kept away from the public so no one is aware that they are there. It’s common knowledge that a lot of children were made orphans due to the war, but people don’t care. They only care that their own children are safe and happy, they have no interest in the orphanage. That’s the whole point of the fundraiser, not only are we hoping to raise enough money for the children and the orphanage, but we’re also doing it so we can draw attention to it, make people see why the orphanage exists, why it needs funds and all the good it does for the children. The orphanage has very low adoption rates, I’ve seen the paperwork, they’re lucky if they have five adopted children each year. The majority of the children that are in the orphanage will never leave until they become of age and the orphanage has no choice but to let the children go and try and find their own way through life. They have limited spaces available and once the children graduate school, they can’t stay anymore.”

“Tha’ ridiculous,” Oliver said, looking appalled.

She smiled sadly. “I know, but there’s nothing that can be done. When a child is of age, they must leave to make room for another orphan. If they had more funds and more space, it wouldn’t have to be this way. We’re hoping to raise funds, promote the orphanage and make people aware of its existence. This may improve the chances of adoption, allowing the children to find families and homes of their own.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face before they were both distracted by the sound of a hooting owl. It swooped in through the window, dropped a letter to the table and then left without a second glance.

“Ye dinnae recognise the owl, did ye?” Oliver said softly, seeing the way her body had stiffened and she was staring at the letter as if it were going to explode.

She shook her head, before using her wand to cast diagnostic spells over the letter. When it came up clean, Oliver took the letter, skipped the contents and went straight to the bottom of the page where the name was signed.

“It’s from Malloy,” he said, handing the letter over to her.

She frowned before taking the letter from him, her eyes scanning the words before she picked up her mug and drank the last of her tea.

“Well, it seems I’m needed and the presents are going to have to wait a little longer,” she spoke. “I better go, your lunch is on the side and I’ll see you later.”

She stood from the table, scratched Merlin on the head and then took her own dishes to the sink, before leaving the kitchen with the letter still in her hand. She returned to her room and settled for her white pea coat and slipped it on over her blouse and jeans, which were tucked into her winter boots. Out of habit she grabbed her medical bag and shrunk it down, slipping it into her pocket before leaving for the apparition point.

~000~000~000~

**Malloy’s Apartment**

Hermione walked into the apartment when the door opened and she turned to see Malloy, dressed for training and with his broom propped up against the wall. He was watching her nervously.

“What’s up?” she asked.

He looked down at the ground before speaking. “I...er...I just...”

“Ben, take a breath and try again,” she encouraged.

He nodded to himself before taking a deep breath in through the nose and exhaling from the mouth. “I was just wondering if you’d come to work with me today. You know, if you’re not busy,” he said quietly.

She frowned. “Why?”

“Well, I get stressed, and when I get stressed I want a drink. And there’s too much temptation at the stadium. I’ve got alcohol stashed in the locker room,” he admitted. Hermione’s face softened. “I can get rid of it, but there’s a bar in the building on the floor below, we all have access to it, and we get free alcohol for as long as we’re with the team. We’re not supposed to drink during training hours, but the bar tender’s easily bribed.”

She knew what he was hinting at. Even if he got rid of the alcohol he’d stashed away, he still had access to the bar and it was easy enough for him to have a drink, despite its open hours not being until after training sessions.

“Okay, I’ll come to the stadium with you,” she agreed.

His whole body sagged in relief and he finally looked up from the ground, sending her a look of thanks.

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

Hermione stepped out of the floo and followed a quiet Malloy down the hall of Puddlemere Stadium until he came to a stop in front of the locker rooms. He stepped in first, checking to see if it was empty, before motioning for her to follow him in.

She kept her eyes on him as he went straight to his locker, dug around inside and he withdrew with two bottles of fire whiskey, both had been opened and drank from. He shut his locker, placed the bottles on one of the benches in the room, before he disappeared into the showers, returning with a bottle. He then went over to the bin in the corner of the room, moved it aside and picked up another bottle of fire whiskey. He gathered them all in his arms and Hermione held his broom for him, as he led her towards the Quidditch pitch.

“Malloy, you’re late!” Coach Burton yelled, lifting his head from his clipboard as he made his way down the stands.

He frowned when he noticed the bottles he carried in his arms, then his eyes fell to Hermione who was walking behind him. The team was already there and gathered, waiting for instructions, and all of them had looks of confusion held on their faces, all except for Oliver who just looked surprised.

Malloy looked to Coach Burton, before walking straight past him and over to the railing that looked out over the pitch. He placed the bottles on the ground, then went back over to the stands, walking up a few of the steps before digging his hand underneath one of the steps and removing a bottle of fire whiskey, he walked up a few more steps and pulled anther bottle from underneath, and then he made his way back to the railing.

Everyone was watching him quietly, their eyes trained on him and waiting to see his next actions. They had all known that Malloy had a drinking problem, but they never knew he kept alcohol hidden around the stadium.

Malloy picked up a bottle, unscrewed the lid before holding it out and over the railing. He lifted his head and his eyes caught Hermione’s, who had placed his broom on one of the steps and was sat beside it. She gave him a smile of encouragement, before he took a deep breath, turned his eyes back towards the pitch and then he tipped the contents of the bottle to the ground below them.

Noises of surprise and mutters were heard from the team, but Hermione and Malloy ignored them. Hermione could’ve easily conjured a box to put the bottles in and then binned them later on, but she knew he needed to do it this way. By emptying the bottles, he was removing temptation and proving to himself that he could get past it. That he could stay sober and that he didn’t need alcohol to fix his problems.

She felt a proud smile put at her face and her gaze caught Oliver’s and he looked at her in complete disbelief. He had known that Malloy was getting better, not only had he seen it, but he knew from Hermione that Malloy had accepted that he needed help, but he never thought that Malloy would be at the stage of getting rid of his alcohol stores. He was doing far better than he thought. Hermione nodded and gave him a small smile, before turning her gaze back to Malloy and he did the same, seeing that he was now on the last bottle.

He emptied it of its contents and placed the bottle on the ground, before he ripped the railing in his hands tightly and his head bowed with his eyes screwed shut tightly, ignoring everyone present.

Hermione stood and made her way over to him, stopping beside him and lifting her hand to rest against his shoulder. They all saw the way he seemed to lean closer to her and when they saw his shoulders beginning to shake, they all spun around to give him some privacy.

Coach Burton cleared his throat, before beginning the morning meeting. Once he’d given them their instructions, they all mounted their brooms and took off, flying onto the pitch and starting their training session.

When Malloy had calmed down, Hermione encouraged him to go to Coach Burton and discuss what he was to do for the day. He wiped at his face with his sleeves before nodding. After Hermione had promised him she’d stay, he stepped away from her and moved over to Coach Burton. They had a quiet conversation, Coach Burton slapped him on the back and Malloy retrieved his broom and took off, flying onto the pitch. Hermione banished the empty bottles before leaning against the railing and looking out, watching as the players went about their training. She felt a presence beside her and turned her head slightly, seeing it to be Coach Burton. He didn’t look at her, but kept his eyes on his clipboard, so she turned her attention back to the players in the air.

“Thank you,” he spoke.

She tilted her head to the side in acknowledgement. “You’re very welcome, but I don’t need thanks. I did this for him because he deserves to be helped, to be free of his demons. He’s a good man and I would never be able to live with myself if I gave up on him. He’s as stubborn as a hippogriff, but I’ve finally gotten through to him. It’s going to be hard for him, but he’s already made far more progress than I expected him to, and I’m going to be with him every step of the way.”

He looked at her curiously and she turned her eyes away from the players and to him.

“I care about my patients, Coach Burton. They’re not just a number to me, I make it a point to get to know them, whilst I am professional with them, I am also what they need me to be. For Ben, I am a friend, a confidant, someone he can confess his secrets to and know that I would never betray him. For my patients that are children, I am their friend, maybe even like a big sister or an aunt. For those that are elderly, some of them look at me as their daughter or their carer. I never give up on my patients, even the most difficult ones. Can I trust you to help me with him?”

“Help, how?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m not always going to be here for him, as much as I care for Ben, I’m not always going to be able to come to the stadium with him, I do have other patients that require my attention also. There’s temptation here, he mentioned there is a bar and if he should want a drink, all he has to do is bribe the bartender. I need for you to keep him away from it, stop him being tempted by it. It’s not hard; all you have to do is distract him or give him some pumpkin juice, he seems to be fond of it.”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t relapse when he’s here,” he confirmed.

“He’s been sober for four days,” Hermione said with a proud smile pulling at her mouth.

“We’ve all noticed a difference in him since you started tending to him. It was subtle at first, but the big change came this morning when we witnessed him getting rid of the alcohol he’d stashed. Normally he’d be given disciplinary action for doing such a thing, but we can let this one slip given the circumstances.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.”

~000~000~000~

It was an hour before lunch and Hermione was bored. She wouldn’t mind if it were a Quidditch match, but all she could see was the players running their individual drills with Coach Burton shouting at them from the stands, and Oliver’s shouts being heard every once in a while.

She stood from her seat sat in the stands before disappearing into the building and heading to the floo. She quickly floo’d to Wood Manor, made her way to the kitchen and she made a quick lunch for herself and Malloy before she grabbed a few shopping bags and other supplies and made her way back to the stadium.

Once she returned to the Coach’s box, she sat herself down on the ground, pulled out a toy, leafed through the papers until she found a child that she thought would like it and then she wrapped it up. She caught sight of Coach Burton watching her curiously, but he didn’t comment or approach her, leaving her to get on with her task quietly. She’d managed to get seven more presents wrapped and ready for the children when the team returned to the ground for dinner.

Each of them eyed her strangely as they made their way past her, up the stands and to the cafeteria for dinner. When Oliver past her, he gave her an amused smile and she shrugged her shoulders and smiled in response. He chuckled and shook his head before he followed the others to the cafeteria.

She looked up when Malloy sat himself down on the ground opposite her, his hair windswept and his cheeks flushed from the cold. She didn’t feel it as he would, given that the Coach’s box had Warming Charms placed around it to ward off the cold. His broom was beside him and his hands were clasped together and held in his lap.

“How you feeling?” she asked him, securing the cell-tape to the wrapping paper, before attaching a gift tag and making it out to ‘Peter. F.’

He breathed out. “Like I want a drink,” he answered honestly.

She reached behind her and picked up the pumpkin juice, before holding it out to him. He blinked in surprise but took it from her, looking grateful.

“What are you doing?”

“Wrapping the presents for the children,” she answered.

“From the orphanage?”

“Yes, Harry and I have been transferring funds into a joint muggle bank account for months, so we could buy the children each a gift and new clothing and shoes for Christmas.”

“That’s a lot of wrapping,” he commented.

“It is, there’s another hundred or so bags at home that haven’t even been touched yet. We started with toys, and so far we’ve only managed to wrap fifty-three out of seventy-nine. Each child has three new outfits and a pair of shoes that need wrapping too, and all before Christmas Eve.”

He blinked in surprise, before reaching for a bag and removing a toy, picking up a roll of wrapping paper and the scissors and cello-tape. Hermione smiled at him before explaining the system of matching a toy to a child through the profile, and they worked together in silence.

They’d managed to wrap twelve presents between them when there was only twenty minutes left of his lunch break, so they left everything where it was and headed to the cafeteria, with Hermione handing him the lunch she’d made him. He took it in surprise and when they entered the cafeteria, they were more than aware of every pair of eyes on them as they found an empty table and sat together, eating their lunch in silence.

“Do you think there’s something going on there?” Kings asked the others, who were all gathered around two tables.

“No,” Pallie spoke first.

“Definitely not,” Bishop agreed.

“She’s his healer, nothing more,” Thompson said. “Take it from us, we know how she is with her patients and she would never date a patient.”

“That doesn’t mean there’s nothing going on,” Kings shrugged.

“There’s not,” Oliver muttered, and all eyes snapped to him.

“Why’s that, Captain?” Wilks asked with a raised eyebrow, sharing a look with the other four team members.

“A know her, she’s not like tha’.”

“Oh, you _know_ her, do you?” Pallie said with a suspicious look on his face.

“Aye, we went tae school tagether, she’d never do tha’.”

“She’s our healer, we personally interact with her. I think we know her better than you,” Thompson spoke. “Unless there’s some other reason you know her that you want to tell us about.”

“There isnae,” Oliver lied, looking down at the chicken salad wrap Hermione had made him for lunch with a fond smile pulling at his mouth.

The others shared a look and nodded, they knew he was lying, and sooner or later it would all come out. They were half convinced he had a secret girlfriend he didn’t want them to know about and right now, after what they’d witnessed, all reason was pointing them towards Hermione Granger.

~000~000~000~

The team had long since returned to their training and Hermione returned to wrapping presents for the children. It was around two o’clock in the afternoon when she had returned to Wood Manor to retrieve the last of the bags containing the toys. She had a few more to do before she could finally move onto clothing and shoes.

Coach Burton appeared beside her, she looked up at him with a questioning gaze before he moved to her side and sat on one of the steps of the stands beside her.

“And just who are all of these for?” he asked curiously.

As she continued with wrapping the presents she explained to him the situation she and Harry were dealing with and why she was currently wrapping presents in the middle of the stadium.

He frowned in thought when she’d finished her explanation.

“Do you have a venue for this fundraiser? A date set? How many are expected to attend?”

Hermione blinked in confusion, wondering why he was asking her those questions but she answered them anyway.

“We don’t have a specific date set yet, we’re still in our planning stage but we’re thinking sometime in March, the weather should be starting to warm up with spring. We thought about having it at The Ministry in one of the functions rooms, as for how many are expected to attend, I don’t know, we’re hoping for a hundred, but I doubt we’ll get that. Even after we start advertising, people just don’t care.”

He had a thoughtful look on his face. “Leave it with me. I’ll be back soon, will you keep an eye on them for me?” He gestured to the players flying over the pitch, and even though she was apprehensive about it, she nodded.

He placed his clipboard beside him before he stood up and made his way up the stands and into the building. Hermione returned her attention to wrapping the presents, her eyes looking up at the players every few minutes to make sure they were fine.

It was almost an hour later when Coach Burton reappeared and much to her surprise, he had a small smile on his face as he took a seat.

“Right, I’ve spoken to the bosses,” he said and her brow furrowed. “They’ve agreed to host the fundraiser here at the stadium. We can use the pitch, there’s more than enough space to do so. The bosses will pay for all advertisements and we’ll be sure to draw a large crowd, especially since we’re going to have the players take a day off from training to help with running the stalls, as well as doing signings, taking photographs and giving flying lessons for the day. All events will require payment and all proceeds with go to the orphanage.”

Hermione was at a loss for words.

“The bosses have also agreed to sponsor the orphanage and donate a substantial amount with the condition that the money be used to purchase a larger and more suitable property for the children and staff to be moved to.”

She could feel the tears welling in her eyes and was helpless to hold them back.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked quietly.

“The children have suffered more than any child should, they deserve better and we have the resources to help give them that. Of course, I may have also dropped your name as well as Harry Potter’s and mentioned all that you were doing for the orphanage, afterwards, they were more than glad to agree to my suggestions. That and both Malloy and Wood have spoken to me on separate occasions about this orphanage, it seems they’ve heard of their troubles and care about it as much as you do.”

Hermione blinked in surprise at that news. Ben and Oliver had tried to convince Coach Burton to help with the orphanage?

“With the sponsorship of Puddlemere and having all the team present, it will draw more people than the orphanage ever could do by itself. Rather than a hundred, they’ll be thousands attending and all the funds raised will go straight to the orphanage.”

She gave a laugh of disbelief.

“I don’t even know how to thank you. Honestly, you have no idea how happy this will make the children.”

He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “And I’ve been asked to give this to you, the bosses wanted you to have it.”

He removed a large and heavy-looking envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it before removing the contents from the envelope and her eyes scanned the words on the first page, immediately becoming aware of what it was.

“I don’t understand,” she frowned.

“What don’t you understand? You’re a highly respected and coveted healer in your field, especially given your age and title of War Heroine and Britain’s most eligible bachelorette. They’ve heard of your talents and are aware of you being the private healer to four out of seven members of the team. They know that you are the one that exposed Healer Dodd for his mistakes and neglect, putting our players in harm’s way, and they have heard what you are capable of.”

“But still, to be the team’s healer?”

He shrugged. “As I said, four of the team are your patients and not only have you helped Malloy with his drinking problem, which the bosses are very impressed with, you discovered the problem with Wilks’ eyesight and ensured he’d get it seen to. The team’s finally pulling themselves together and just in time, practice matches start-up after Christmas.”

“I have other patients,” she spoke.

He nodded. “The bosses recognise and understand that, therefore, you are not confined to the stadium. Should you be required elsewhere then you are free to leave. You’re only required to be here three full days a week anyway,” he shrugged. “Which days you come to the stadium are entirely up to you. You’ll be given your own office, examination room and treatment bay. All potions shall be provided for you and if you prefer to brew your own, as we know some private healers do, you will be reimbursed for the price of ingredients and paid for the time spent brewing, along with a good monthly salary.”

“That’s all very tempting, but I still don’t think I can take up their offer, no matter the perks and I do not care for money.”

“I thought you’d say that,” he said amused, before removing a second envelope from his pocket and handing it to her.

She took it from him and opened it, removing a piece of parchment with one thousand galleons written on it.

“That is what the bosses are offering you monthly and they are also offering to give the same amount each month, to any charity of your choice and in your name. And, they have agreed to pay for the tuition to Hogwarts for every child at the orphanage, and any who wish to move onto further education once they have graduated.”

“I...”

“I understand this is a lot for you to take in, so take some time to think about it, but not too much; I need an answer by tomorrow.”

He patted her on the shoulder and left her alone, staring off into space blankly.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Hermione arrived at the manor before Oliver did and she sat on the corner suite, cuddling against Merlin once he bounded into the room to greet her. Oliver arrived twenty minutes after her, before he sat down next to her, watching her carefully.

“Ye alright, ye look a little dazed?” he asked her with a frown of worry.

In response, she removed the contract from her pocket and handed it to him. He took it and his eyes scanned the first page, immediately knowing what it was. It was similar to the one he received every year. He felt a smile pulling at his mouth. Well, that certainly would be interesting. Not only would he be able to spend time with her at the manor, but at the stadium too. It would be less suspicious should he be seen speaking with her, giving that she worked there too.

“Tae be honest, am not surprised,” he commented and she turned to look at him in surprise. He shrugged. “What? Am not, since Coach discovered yer the healer tae four af the team, five if ye include mae, six if ye include Wilks after what ye did fer his eyesight, an’ ye got rid af Dodd, a was expecting somethin’ like this.” She blinked at him. “What have they offered ye?”

She shook her head to clear her mind. “Three full days at the stadium with the freedom to leave should another of my patients require my services. My own office, examination room and treatment bay. If I decide to brew my own potions, they’ll reimburse me for the cost of ingredients and for time spent brewing, and of course, a monthly salary of thousand galleons.”

Oliver made a whistling sound; that wasn’t much less than his own wage and he was the Captain and a starting player.

“They must really be desperate tae get ye.”

“That’s not all.” He raised an eyebrow. “They’re willing to donate one thousand galleons a month to a charity of my choice and in my name, as well as paying the Hogwarts tuition for the children at the orphanage, and paying tuition for anyone who wishes to go onto further education once they’ve graduated.”

Now that did surprise him. He wondered why they were so desperate to get her on their payroll. He knew her very well by this point, and he knew she would’ve easily turned down the offer, but then they’d thrown in something she wouldn’t be able to walk away from. She cared for the children and wanted them to have the best lives they could have, and that meant education too. They’d basically left her no choice.

“Yer gunna take the offer aren’t ye?” he said knowingly.

“I don’t have a choice,” she sighed. “If I should decline, those children are going to miss out on so much and it’ll be because of me. I’ll be denying them their right to an education and I can’t live with myself if I do that.” She flopped her head back to lean against the cushions, then she turned her head to look at him. “Is it alright with you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked.

“I don’t want to intrude on your work life, especially given that I’ve done so in your personal life.”

He started at her and he couldn’t help herself, he laughed at her and she blinked dumbly, before scowling at him.

“Am sorry, Damsel,” his laughter tapered off. “Af course a don’ mind, yer brilliant at yer job an’ a’ll feel a lot better aboot getting injured knowing ye’ll be the one tae heal mae. Ye’ll take good care af the team, tha’s all any Captain wants from a healer.”

She nodded slowly. “Did you speak with Coach Burton about the orphanage?”

“A may have,” he admitted, a shy smile pulling at his face. Before he could blink, Hermione had pushed Merlin off her and she’d moved closer to him; she hugged him tightly and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before pulling back from him and giving him a wide smile.

“Why?” he cleared his throat, lemons and jasmine still filling his nose even though she’d moved away from him.

“Well, between Malloy, you and myself and Harry, he was able to convince the bosses to host the fundraiser at the stadium. The team’s all going to be given the day off from training in order to help with the running of the stalls and whatnot, as well as doing signings, photographs and flying lessons. All money raised is going to the orphanage. They’re going to pay for the advertising and they’re going to donate to the orphanage too.”

“Well, am glad a could help ye in some way.”

“You’ve helped me more than you know,” she replied. He wondered what she meant by that. “Now, I’ve finished wrapping the toys, we can move onto the clothing and shoes.”

“Dinner first,” he chuckled. “What do ye fancy?”

“Chicken pie,” she answered.

“Again?” he asked amused.

“It’s not my fault you’re such a good cook, honestly, you could give Mrs. Weasley a run for her galleons.”

He took her compliment and sat up taller, before standing up and making his way to the kitchen, grabbing everything he needed to make another chicken pie for Hermione. They’d eaten it several times over the last couple of weeks, but seeing as she loved it so much, he was more than happy to make it for her, since it seemed to make her happy. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Wood Estate - Tuesday 22nd December 1998**

Hermione and Oliver had long since parted ways and gone to their separate rooms to get some sleep, but at two o’clock in the morning, sleep was still evading her. She tossed and turned, she beat the pillows, she cocooned herself in the blanket, she threw the blanket off her, she closed her eyes and controlled her breathing, she snuggled with Merlin and she tried counting dragons. But it was all for nothing as after almost three hours of retiring to bed, Hermione still couldn’t sleep.

She felt tired, exhausted really, but after so long of trying and unable to sleep, Hermione climbed out of bed with a huff and stalked over to the armchair that sat in the corner of her room. She made herself comfortable and conjured her signature blue-bell flames for lighting so she could read through her books.

As soon as she’d learned of Oliver’s Mother’s diagnosis of cancer, she wanted to help him as much as she could. He’d done so much for her, without thought and without complaint that she had basically taken over her life, that helping his Mother was the least she could do. She didn’t know if the chemotherapy would be effective, but Hermione was determined to not give up, even if all potential treatment options had run out. If she bloody well had to, she’d create a bloody cure herself. She wasn’t going to let Oliver or his Mother down.

She knew what it was like to lose a parent; she’d been a complete emotional wreck when she’d wiped her parents’ minds and sent them away for their protection. She may not have lost them in the sense that they had died, but they may as well have. They hadn’t known who she was until she’d turned up at their door and reversed the effects of the memory alterations she’d done. And afterwards, it had taken her parents months before they could properly trust her again, and that had hurt Hermione all the more.

When she’d learned of his heartbreaking secret, she’d borrowed his owl and wrote to her parents, asking them to collect and send as many books, research papers and journals as they could find on every type and form of cancer, asking them to send them back with Winston as soon as possible. Wilson arrived not even a day later and since then, Hermione spent as much of her time as she could reading through the resources, hoping something would be of use to Oliver’s Mother.

She not only wanted to help his mother because of Oliver, because she truly did care for him, but because any woman that could raise such a kind, generous man was needed in the world. If she could influence others the way she had influenced Oliver, the world would be a much better place. She hadn’t met the woman, but Hermione got the feeling that she was a little like Mrs. Weasley. Not in the sense that she would fatten you up with her home-cooked meals as soon as you walked through the door, seeing as she knew from Oliver that his Mother never cooked as they had house-elves growing up. But in the sense that she loved her son and she’d raised him to be a wonderful wizard. That she’d put him first before all else and that she only wanted what was best for him.

She wondered what his Mother was like. Was she pushy in the way Mrs. Weasley could be? Was she as beautiful as Oliver was handsome? She wondered where Oliver got his looks from, was it his Mother or his Father, or was it a mixture of both?

Were his puppy dog brown eyes inherited from his Mother, his long eyelashes his Father? Did he get his love of Quidditch from his Father, or his kindness from his Mother? Was his infectious laugh from his Father, or the shape of his mouth his Mother’s?

She found her thoughts wandering to his mouth, thinking about the dazzling smile he gave that sometimes took her by surprise and made her head fuzzy. She thought about his red-pink lips that looked softer than any man’s ought to be. She found herself thinking if he was as good a kisser as he was at Quidditch.

She immediately shook her head free from those thoughts with a frown on her face, before she forced herself to focus on the words in front of her.

~000~000~000~

When Oliver woke and dressed for the day of going to a Muggle hospital for his mother’s first round of chemotherapy, he felt himself grow anxious. The doctor had explained everything to him and his mother, and despite knowing what he could or should expect, he still felt anxious. He hadn’t slept much, spending most of the night tossing and turning and worrying about his Mother. The only comfort he took was that Hermione would be going with him.

She had experienced a similar situation with her Grandmother having had cancer and he reminded himself to be optimistic, after all, her Grandmother has survived and beat cancer, so maybe his mother could too. Between muggle and magical healing, his mother had the best chance possible of beating the cancer and getting back to her regular self.

He scrubbed his hand over his face, his eyes so tired they stung and felt heavy. He almost stumbled into the corner suite when his eyes closed for longer than they should have and he growled in annoyance, pushing his damp hair back from his face. As he stumbled into the kitchen, he felt his restlessness fade into calmness and he took a deep breath, breathing in the smell of freshly baked cookies.

He felt a smile pulling at his mouth and he leaned against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest, watching the sight of Hermione with her back to him, pottering about the kitchen as she absentmindedly hummed to herself. It was a tune he didn’t recognise, so he assumed it was of muggle origin. What surprised him was not that she was in the kitchen before him, but that she was still wearing her pyjamas. A white short-sleeved t-shirt, a pair of black cotton shorts that showed off her soft-looking skin and her long legs, a pink apron protected her clothing and was decorated in little cupcakes, and a pair of white ankle socks were protecting her feet from the cold floor.

Unknown to Oliver, Hermione had been unable to sleep too and after a few hours or going through her research material, she’d needed a break and there was only one thing that would calm her. She hadn’t done any baking in months and especially since her attack and moving in with Oliver. She missed the calmness it brought her. Some people liked to fly, some liked to listen to music, some liked to take walks, but she liked to bake and she had done since she was a small child, making her first birthday cake with her mother for her Father. Granted, it had been barely edible and looked a complete mess, but she’d fallen in love with baking from that point on.

When she was unable to take any more of her reading, she’d immediately left the bedroom and quietly made her way to the kitchen. She’d lit the room with her blue-bell flames and summoned her favourite apron, slipping it on and tying it behind her back. With a flick of her wand, she summoned all the ingredients and tools she needed before pre-heating two of the ovens to the correct temperature.

She made chocolate chip cookies and she had long since memorised the recipe, it coming from her Grandmother who had passed it onto her mother, who then passed it onto her. She put the ingredients into a mixing bowl with practised ease and hummed to herself as she mixed the dough.

By the time she’d placed the cookies onto baking trays and slipped them into the oven, she had the dishes washing themselves and moved onto making a batch of brownies. She knew she’d made far too much for anyone to eat, but once she started baking and she got lost in her favourite hobby, it was hard for her to stop. And for that reason she had made a batch of vanilla cupcakes too, starting as the first rays of sunlight made itself known through the windows.

She cancelled her blue-bell flames no longer needing the lighting before ensuring that the cookies and brownies had properly cooled and then she separated them into different Tupperware tubs. With the amount she’d made, there were more than enough to send some to Harry, the twins and Lee and Terry, knowing that they loved her cookies and had been begging her to bake them some for months know.

As she iced the cupcakes with buttercream, quietly humming to herself and keeping her attention focused on making sure the swirls on the iced cupcakes were perfect; she didn’t notice Oliver watching her.

She almost jumped out of her skin when he appeared beside her, peering down at the cupcakes that she hadn’t yet iced, the cupcakes that she had and the plate of remaining cookies and brownies.

“You scared the hell out of me,” she huffed at him, before picking up another cupcake and icing it, noticing that Oliver was watching her meticulous movements with intrigue.

“Sorry,” he replied. “A thought ye would’ve heard mae. Are ye alright?” he asked her once he'd gotten a glimpse of her face. She looked as tired as he felt.

“What’s the definition of alright?” she shrugged.

“Hoo much sleep did ye get? Hoo long have ye been doin’ this?” he asked, noticing the number of baked goods that littered the counter as well as the ones in the tubs.

“I got enough,” she lied, when in reality she hadn’t yet been to sleep. “I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d do some baking. I haven’t baked for months and I’ve missed doing so. Besides, with all the cooking you’ve been doing, I thought it about time I pull my weight around here and provide the snacks and desserts.”

He snorted. “Yer’ve more than made up fer it,” he said amused, eyeing the baked goods pointedly.

She shrugged. “I like baking, it’s calming. Once I start I get lost in what I’m doing, much like I do with my reading. I couldn’t stop myself, so I hope you like cookies, brownies and cupcakes.”

“If they smell as good as they taste, a’m sure a’ll be badgering ye tae make them fer me more often,” he said.

“I’d bake you anything you asked me to. If there’s anything that you fancy just let me know and I’ll get right on it. It’s only fair given the number of times I’ve all but begged you to make chicken pie.”

He chuckled at her and shook his head.

“So, how’d you sleep? Alright?”

“What’s yer definition af alright?” he replied with her own words.

She lifted her eyes from the cupcake and up to him, seeing that he looked as tired as she felt. She frowned and placed the cupcake off to the side and she put down the piping bag before turning to face him. She took his face in her hands and he was unable to do anything but look at her.

“You didn’t sleep,” she stated, biting her lip and his eyes darted to watch the gesture. “What’s up?”

He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Am jus’ worried,” he admitted.

He saw no point in lying to her; she’d see right through him, she always did. She was one of the only people who seemed to understand him based on body language and facial expressions alone. She seemed to know what he was thinking before he’d even voiced it.

“It’s me ma’s first treatment an’ anno what the doctor said, but a still cannae help worry. We don’ know hoo this will affect her or if it will affect her at all. We’re using muggle treatments on a magical witch, her magic might render the equipment useless.”

“I’ve planned for that, don’t worry. I’m going to be with you every step of the way. Do you know what you’re going to tell your Mum about my presence being there?”

“If she asks, which she probably will, a thought aboot telling her the truth, if that’s alright with ye. A canne lie tae her, she’d know an’ see right through it. Af course a won’t tell her ev’rything, jus’ tha’ ye are me source an’ ye put us in contact with the doctor.”

“That’s fine with me, I hate that you have to lie for me,” she sighed, removing her hands from his face and returning her attention back to her cupcakes.

“A’d do ev'rything a had tae in order tae protect ye, an’ if tha’ means lying fer yer safety, then so be it,” he told her honestly, lifting to rest a hand on her shoulder and giving her a gentle squeeze.

She felt heat flood her cheeks and she’d be lying if she said his words didn’t make her stomach flutter and her heart to skip a beat. She took a steady breath before looking up at him, seeing that he was staring at her, his eyes were warm and soft, but his face unreadable.

Then she spotted a smudge of buttercream on his cheek which had transferred from her hands and she laughed at him, reaching up to wipe it away from his cheek with her thumb and wiping it off on her apron. Oliver’s head moved slightly, as if not wanting her touch to leave his skin and feeling the loss.

“Right come on then, let’s have breakfast. If you make the tea, I’ll make pancakes.”

He kept his eyes on her and she turned away from him, icing the final cupcake and putting it off to the side and his eyes darted to her mouth as she sucked a bit of icing off her finger, before flicking her wand and sending the remaining dishes to clean themselves in the sink.

She moved away from him and went about making pancakes for their breakfast. He kept his eyes on her for a little while longer until she looked over her shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow and he turned and started preparing tea.

They sat in a comfortable silence as they ate their breakfast and afterwards, Hermione told Oliver she’d meet him at the hospital since he would be escorting his Mother. He nodded and she left him to ready for the day. She had a little time so she took her time showering and drying off, almost falling asleep in the shower in the process.

She dressed in blue skinny jeans, black knee-length leather boots and a black v-neck woollen jumper. She slipped on her white pea coat and then summoned her medical bag before shrinking it down and slipping it into her pocket.

Before leaving for the hospital Hermione called for Bobby, letting him know that both she and Oliver wouldn’t be back until sometime after lunch and she asked if he’d keep an eye on Merlin, which he happily agreed to. Hermione had seen Bobby bonding with Merlin in a way a witch or wizard did to their familiar, which she thought was adorable, and she knew Merlin was just as fond of Bobby. If he weren’t with her or Oliver, he was more than likely to be following Bobby around as he did his chores.

Merlin bounded into the room at the sound of Bobby’s voice and he barked and wagged his tail. Hermione laughed before saying her goodbyes and then leaving the manor.

~000~000~000~

**Muggle London – Hospital**

It didn’t take Hermione long to find her way to the correct ward and it took even shorter of a time to find the correct room. She’d made sure that Mrs. Wood would have a room to herself, allowing her some privacy and lessening her fears of accidentally revealing the existence of magic to others.

The room was like any normal hospital room with the bed and medical equipment, and the smell of cleanliness and death, except there was a comfortable looking armchair in the centre of the room along with everything that was needed for the chemotherapy treatment. A small table was beside the armchair and upon it sat a variety of magazines, a jug of water and several plastic cups.

Hermione closed the door behind her before making quick work of casting warding spells around all the equipment in the room so it couldn’t react badly to the magic of the magical folk that would soon be filling the room.

As she slipped her wand up her sleeve, the door opened and she jumped in surprise when a nurse entered the room, eyeing her strangely.

“Moral support,” Hermione gave the older woman with greying hair a small smile.

The nurse didn’t reply but she did walk over to the equipment and seemed to be checking it over and no sooner had she finished, both Oliver and his Mother entered through the door and into the room.

Oliver’s eyes locked onto her instantly and she noticed the way his entire body seemed to relax at seeing her there. Had he expected her to change her mind? _‘As if,’_ she thought with a snort.

Her eyes then moved the woman who’s arm was hooked around Oliver’s and she came face to face with Bethany Wood for the first time. And like Hermione had thought she would be, she beautiful, but it wasn’t striking or dark, it was a soft kind of beautiful, and she quickly became aware that Oliver did not get his hair colour or eyes from his Mother, but rather his Father.

Bethany Wood had shoulder-length blonde hair that was left down and tucked behind her ears. There were shots of grey streaking through the strands showing that she was getting on in age. Her hair looked thinner than she thought it would be, but she wasn’t sure if that was down to her age or the cancer. Her eyes were a lovely blue colour, like the blue you’d see on a sunny, cloudless day. Her eyes looked sunken and her wrists frail, like she hadn’t been eating properly. She had a small nose and thin red lips, with long eyelashes, and from what she could see, Oliver had inherited his mother’s eyelashes and mouth shape.

Where Oliver was tanned from spending so much time outdoors, his mother was pale, but Hermione didn’t know if that was her natural tone or if it was out of sickness. She was far smaller than her son too; she was even smaller than Hermione. Tiny really, standing at five-foot-one in height. She wore a woollen skirt and the matching jumper to keep her warm.

Hermione smiled at her kindly whilst her eyes widened and she spluttered in surprise, obviously recognising her. She turned her eyes to Oliver and he gave her a small smile, muttering under his breath that he’d explained later. His mother seemed to pull herself together and she nodded and cleared her throat, her eyes turning look at Hermione in curiosity and they darted between her and Oliver.

Oliver led his mother over to the armchair and she took the seat and Oliver stepped back, allowing the nurse to do her job. He moved over to stand beside Hermione, slipping his hands into his trouser pockets and his arm pressed against hers. She felt the tension drain from him at the contact.

“Did you honestly think I wouldn’t come?” she muttered, half-listening to the nurse going over the process and the symptoms that could arise due to the treatment, but Hermione knew potions could deal with most of the symptoms.

“A dunno, a jus’...” he trailed off with a sigh.

“I told you I’d be with you every step of the way and I meant it,” she said softly, giving him a gentle nudge with her shoulder and a smile pulled at his face. “And I’ve taken care of the magic affecting the equipment problem, we shouldn’t have any issues.”

They didn’t have to wait long before the nurse started the treatment, alerting them that should they need anything they only had to pop their heads out the door and ask, before she left them to it.

Once the door closed, Hermione threw a Silencing Charm at it to prevent anyone from overhearing anything they shouldn’t, before she conjured up two chairs and she and Oliver sat beside each other, not too close to his mother, but not too far away either.

Hermione felt the eyes on her before she’d even sat down in her seat and made herself comfortable. She felt Oliver’s shoulder press against her as he leaned closer to her in his seat, she was sure he didn’t even know he was doing it. He had a worried look on his face and Hermione took his hand in hers, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He let out a little sigh and gripped onto her hand for dear life, but she didn’t complain.

“So, a said a would explain,” Oliver broke the silence and looking to his Mother.

“Aye, ye did, Son,” his mother said, her accent seemed to be thicker than Oliver’s. “It was more than a wee surprise tae see _the_ Hermione Granger standing in mae hospital room,” she replied, her eyes sweeping between the two of them and searching for something, Hermione didn’t know what.

“Well, ye know a said a had a source?” She nodded. “Well, me source is Hermione Granger.”

His mother frowned slightly, eyeing the way they held hands as though it were a regular occurrence, and noticing the way Oliver was relaxed in Hermione’s presence. Relaxed in a way she hadn’t seen in a long time. He’d been very secretive lately and he’d avoided her as often as he could, and now she knew why. Her thoughts ran through her mind and they all led to one possibility and she found it hard to keep her smile from showing or from squealing loudly in excitement. She had been waiting years for Oliver to bring a witch home to meet her. She’d waited years for him to finally meet a witch he could settle down with. And if it was Hermione Granger, that was even better. Imagine having Hermione Granger as a daughter-in-law!

“A dinnae know ye knew Hermione Granger,” she said calmly, but her lip twitched and she scolded herself.

Hermione gave a kind smile. “Well, we attended school together, though Oliver was a few years ahead of me. We’ve recently become friends when I saved Oliver from the clutches of a drunken woman in a club about a month ago.”

His Mother raised an amused eyebrow when Oliver shrugged and gave her a sheepish look.

“As it turns out, Oliver was my saviour that night also,” she said, her voice going quiet and a haunted look entered her eyes.

Beth watched the way Oliver leaned closer to Hermione to whisper in her ear, and when he pulled back she nodded, and her easy smile reappeared. There was more to the story and she knew it.

“And since then, we’ve become good friends.”

 _‘Friends indeed,’_ she thought amused. She saw right through them.

“When I learned of your condition and the lack of suitable treatment, I stepped in and offered a suitable solution. I’m not sure if you’re aware, but I’m a private healer.”

Beth nodded. “Aye, from what a heard, yer one af the best tae be seen in a long time. If the rumours are true, yer’ve a natural talent fer healing.”

Hermione blushed and Oliver chuckled at her.

“Anyway, it’s widely known of my Muggleborn status and due to the fact I was raised in the Muggle World, I know of muggle cancer, whereas most healers don’t. When I was a child, my Grandmother had breast cancer. We were able to convince her to try the treatment and within a year, she was cancer-free and completely healthy.” Beth looked at her hopefully. “I can’t guarantee that it’ll work for you, but I can guarantee that it will give you the best possible chance, and combined with magical healing, we may just be able to beat this.”

Hermione removed her hand from Oliver’s and then stood from her chair and she removed her medical bag, as well as a Tupperware tub from her pockets.

“Cookies and brownies, we need to keep your sugar levels up,” she explained with a smile, depositing the tub onto the table. She then dug into her medical bag and pulled out an Anti-Nausea Potion, a Sleeping Draught and a Pepper-Up Potion.

She then retook her seat and Beth eyed them both before she settled back into her armchair and picked up a magazine from the table, leafing through it in intrigue. Hermione dug into her medical bag and pulled out two potion vials, handing one to Oliver and she kept one for herself.

“Invigoration Draught, we’re going to need it,” she muttered. “I’m going to doze off if I don’t take it and we both have to be at the stadium after this. It’s even more dangerous for you.”

He didn’t argue with her and downed the potion the same time she did, both of them gagging at the taste, but they both felt energised almost immediately afterwards.

“So, are ye taking the job offer?” Oliver asked, seeing as she had mentioned needing to be at the stadium.

“I don’t have a choice, if I refuse the children aren’t going to get the resources and education they deserve. What the bosses are offering is life-changing to these children and I’d never forgive myself if I took those opportunities away from them. I want what’s best for them and they’re not going to get it if I don’t agree to take up the position. Are you sure you don’t mind?” she asked, biting her lip.

“A don’ mind,” he promised. “Like a said, a’d feel a lot better knowing tha’ ye would be the one tae heal mae an’ the team. An’ with ye as the healer, ye might be able tae use yer medical knowledge tae convince the team tae get new brooms.”

She snorted and shook her head at him, as they settled back into their seats and fell into a comfortable silence, but half an hour later, Hermione excused herself to use the bathroom.

Oliver’s eyes watched her leave the room, and his Mother watched him watch Hermione from over the top of her magazine, effectively hiding her smile.

“So, Oliver,” she said lightly, drawing his attention and a suspicious look crossed his face. She bit back her chuckle; he knew her so well.

“What is it, Ma?” his tone was wary.

“Hoo long have ye an’ the beautiful Hermione been dating?”

If Oliver had been eating or drinking, he’d have choked, as it was he was spluttering and his face was turning red as he struggled to breathe.

“Ma!” he half-shouted, half-whined.

“It’s a simple question, Oliver,” she said innocently. “One of which ye havnae answered yet. Hoo long have ye been dating?” she repeated.

“We’re not dating, Ma,” he sighed.

“But ye want tae date her,” she said knowingly.

“Ma, we’re jus’ friends,”

“Maybe fer now, but a know ye, Oliver, a know ye like her an’ ye wanna be more than friends.”

“Ma, please,”

“A’ve been watching ye, the way ye look at her isnae as a friend but somethin’ more. A’ve only seen ye tagether less than an hour an’ a already know ye like her an’ a’ve never seen ye look at someone the way ye were looking at her. And ye introduced mae tae her, yer’ve never brought a witch home befere.”

“She’s helping us get ye better, Ma.”

“An’ ye like her all the more fer it, maybe ye even love her.”

“Ma,” he protested.

She shrugged and lowered her magazine and sat it on her lap. “A know what a saw, Oliver, an’ she was looking at ye jus’ as ye were looking at her.”

Oliver felt his head swimming with the news, but he pushed off his thoughts before they could take root.

“Anno there’s somethin’ ye not telling mae, yer’ve been very secretive lately an’ am betting it has tae do with Hermione. A know there’s more tae the story af ye reconciling, so what is it? What did she mean when she said ye saved her? A’ve never seen someone so scared.”

“A cannae tell ye, Ma. They’re not me secrets an’ a promised a would keep her safe an a intend tae do tha’, even if it means a have tae keep things from ye an’ Da.”

“Ye’ll keep her safe from what? What’s goin’ on?”

“Naw offence, Ma, a love ye an’ a’d never want tae disrespect ye, but some things aren’t yer business. A need tae do ev’rything a can tae keep her safe.”

She eyed him with a look he couldn’t decipher.

“Ye love her, don’ ye?”

“What?” he frowned. “Naw, she’s me friend.”

His mother raised an eyebrow. “She may be, have ye ever been in love?” she asked, despite knowing he hadn’t, since he’d never had an actual girlfriend. Oliver was a very private person and no one had earned his trust enough to see beyond the Quidditch obsessed player people thought him to be. But she’d already seen the way Oliver had relaxed in Hermione’s presence, she’d seen the way he looked at her, she’d seen the way he took comfort from her. And she just knew that there was more to their relationship than he wanted her to believe.

“Naw,” he confirmed.

“Then hoo do ye know tha’ yer not in love with her?” she questioned. “Loving yer parents an’ family an’ friends is different tae being in love with someone romantically. So if yer’ve never experienced tha’, hoo do ye know that ye don’ love her?”

Oliver frowned and opened his mouth as if to speak when the door opened and Hermione stepped in carrying three cups of tea. Oliver cleared his throat when Hermione looked at him with a raised eyebrow, before handing him his tea and then placing his Mother’s on the table beside her.

“I wasn’t sure if you took milk or sugar, so I brought some back with me just in case,” Hermione said with a smile, removing the milk and sugar packages from her pockets and placing them on the table.

“Thank ye, Dear,” Beth said with a genuine smile.

“It’s no problem, but I wouldn’t have high standards, the tea in hospitals is rubbish. You should probably eat a cookie or two as well, just to keep your sugar levels up,” Hermione said, before retaking her seat. “So, what have I missed?”

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

“Are you alright?” she asked Oliver as they made their way through the halls of the stadium and towards the pitch.

Once the chemotherapy session was over, Oliver took his Mother home and she returned to the manor, where she made a quick lunch for herself and Oliver. When Oliver had returned, he’d headed straight for his bedroom and came into the kitchen with his broom and wearing his practice robes. They’d sat for lunch and Hermione had noticed that Oliver had been quiet, especially since she’d returned to the hospital room after getting some tea and going to the bathroom.

“Aye,” he sighed.

“Are you sure? You’ve been awfully quiet, that’s not like you,” she said softly, a worried look crossing her face.

He turned his head and looked down at her, his eyes sweeping over her face before a soft look entered his eyes.

“Am fine, Damsel,” he promised. “It’s jus’ been a long mornin’ is all. When a got me Ma home the effects af the chemotherapy kicked in an’ after taking yer potions she went tae bed, the house-elves are keeping an eye on her until me da gets back tanight.”

She eyed him carefully before slowly nodding.

As they made their way down the stands they realised that the team can’t have finished their lunch break long ago as Coach Burton had them all gathered, until they noticed their arrival, several of the team eyeing Hermione and Oliver carefully since they had arrived together.

Hermione held out an envelope when she reached Coach Burton and he took it with a raised eyebrow.

“I could hardly refuse, could I?” she said, a little grumpily.

“That’s why they were sure to offer you what they did,” he shrugged. “They knew you wouldn’t turn them down. So, I’ll just get this lot sorted and then I’ll show you to your office where you can get set up.”

“Office?” Several voices chorused, looking between Hermione and Coach Burton confused.

“Yes, I’m the new healer for Puddlemere,” she explained.

“Oh, thank Merlin,” Bishop sighed. “At least now we’ll be properly taken care of,” he said, whilst Malloy, Pallie and Thompson nodded knowingly.

“Well, as my first order of business as your healer,” she spoke, seeing the way they all looked at her and Coach looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “I’m ordering you all to get rid of your rubbish brooms and purchase newer, safer, and more reliable models.”

“What?” they chorused in surprise.

“You heard me, you all need new brooms, the ones you’re using are rubbish and the magic on them is fading, before you know it you’ll be dead. I don’t care how attached you are to them, and it’s my job to ensure your good health. I’m good at what I do but even I can’t heal the dead. So, purchase new brooms, healer’s orders and if you don’t, I’ll put you on a no-fly ban until you do.”

They all just gawked at her whilst Oliver did his best to hide his smirk and Coach Burton just snorted at her.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 11

**Diagon Alley – Thursday 24th December 1998**

It was Christmas Eve, Hermione realised, and it had arrived a lot quicker than she thought it would. Over the last couple of days, she’d been so busy she’d barely had time to stop and think.

The previous day Hermione had spent at the stadium, getting herself familiar with the layout of the building, running into some staff members and introducing herself to them. It was obvious she had surprised them when she told them of her new position with the team, one of the girls from the PR Department had almost fainted when Hermione shook her hand and agreed to give her an autograph when she’d nervously asked.

After that she’d made herself scarce and retreated to her office, spending some time personalising it and ensuring that the medical examination and treatment bays were up to standards and going over inventory, throwing away nearly all of the potions due to them no longer being safe for use. She honestly didn’t know how Healer Dodd had passed his exams, gotten the job as the team’s healer or how no one had noticed his neglect towards the players. If she hadn’t witnessed firsthand his uselessness, the state of the treatment bays would’ve given it away.

When the team arrived at the stadium, Hermione had been waiting for them along with Coach Burton, wishing to see if they’d followed her orders and gotten new brooms.

None of them had. Not even Malloy, Pallie, Bishop or Thompson, all of who knew her personality from her being their private healers. She supposed they wanted to test her, possibly hoping that she had been messing with them. They had gotten a shock when she’d instantly put them on a no-fly ban.

They’d gawked at her and then as a group, the six players all turned to look at Coach Burton expectantly, waiting for him to override her orders. Unfortunately for them he merely smirked, crossed his arms over his chest and said, “Can’t argue with your healer, boys.”

Hermione had smiled smugly and Oliver had struggled to contain his amusement at the situation. And seeing as he was the only one who was exempt for the ban, he was free to access the pitch, but neither he nor Coach Burton saw the point of it. Instead, Coach Burton had all but forced the team to follow him up the stands and into the building, leading them to a room which looked to be used as a classroom of sorts, with the chalkboard on the wall, the desks in the centre of the room and chairs behind them.

Hermione had happily stood at the back of the room near the door, preventing anyone from leaving whilst Coach Burton lectured the six team members, then later moving onto discussing the plan of action for the up-coming practice matches that would start up after Christmas. It was clear to Hermione that the six wizards were bored out of their minds, obviously finding no joy in the theory aspect of the sport.

They’d only been there an hour when the six wizards all stood from their desks with scowls, left their brooms on the floor, and they all stormed out of the room, leaving behind an amused Oliver, a smirking Coach Burton, and a smug Hermione. Barely an hour and a half later, the six wizards returned to the stadium, each one of them with a new broom held tightly in their grasp and an annoyed look on their faces.

Hermione had lifted the ban instantly and before she could blink, they’d all flown onto the pitch in blurs, immediately starting their drills. Coach Butron had laughed at her and turned his attention back to the no longer banned players, and Hermione winked at a laughing Oliver, before going back to her office, feeling good about herself.

And now it was Christmas Eve. That morning she and Oliver had both gone to the stadium, making sure to arrive at different times and Hermione had hidden herself away in her office. She’d spent some of the morning looking through the medical records for each player, frowning unhappily when she saw that Healer Dodd had not only been terrible at healing, but at keeping records, too. Luckily she kept a record of all the Quidditch related injuries she’d healed for her patients and she was able to update the records for five out of seven of the players, but there was little else she could about it.

After having completed that and with her services not being needed, she’d returned to the manor, collected the last of the shopping bags and spent the rest of her morning wrapping the final gifts for the children in her office. She and Oliver had stayed up as long as possible the night before to get the last few wrapped, but in the end, they needed their sleep and Hermione took the opportunity presented to her. By the time lunch rolled around and she and the team were officially dismissed for the Christmas break, she’d finally finished wrapped all of the gifts.

Oliver and Hermione had been sure to be the last ones to leave so no one would notice that they both floo’d to Oliver’s manor. They’d both flopped on to the couch and sat in silence for a few minutes before they made their way to the kitchen and had lunch together.

Afterwards, Oliver left to change out of his practice robes and Hermione had decided to bake some gingerbread men for the children at the orphanage. She was so glad of the fact Oliver’s kitchen was so big and he had several ovens, making her task a lot easier. Oliver had offered to help her but after he’d accidentally gotten some of the ingredients mixed up, she’d put him to work with the cookie cutter and placing the gingerbread men onto the tray and into the oven, whilst she focused her attention on mixing the ingredients together, and later decorating the gingerbread men once they’d cooled.

Oliver had eagerly offered to be the taste tester, “Just to be sure they were edible,” were his words, and after laughing at the innocent look on his face, she’d relented and allowed him to steal one, after all, there was more than enough for all of the children and staff.

After shrinking all of the gifts, tins of gingerbread men and the food for the Christmas feast down and placing them in large cardboard boxes, she and Oliver had floo’d to The Leaky Cauldron, easily blending in with the crowd of last-minute Christmas shoppers as they made their way to the orphanage.

“This is it?” Oliver asked, looking up at the building with a frown on his face, seeing that it definitely needed some work doing to it.

“Unfortunately,” Hermione replied.

“Is it even structurally sound?” He said, turning his eyes to her, worry crossing his face.

“It’s structurally sound for now, but in a few years probably not. It’s why we’re trying to get a new building as soon as possible, not only because it’s unable to house all the children and staff comfortably, but for safety,” she explained, lifting her hand to knock on the door, and moments later footsteps were heard and it was pulled open.

Hermione smiled down at the little girl that grinned up at her, her red hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her green eyes shining with excitement and her yellow dress covered in dirt and what looked to be children’s paint.

“Hermione!”

Hermione chuckled and wrapped her arms around the little girl as she flung herself at her and wrapped her hands around her waist, looking up at her with a big smile.

“Hello, Daisy,” Hermione said.

“It’s been ages since we saw you, we’ve missed you,” the little girl pouted slightly.

“I’ve missed you all, too, and I was only here on Saturday,” Hermione chuckled. The little girl shrugged and stepped back from her, turning her eyes to Oliver and looking at him curiously. “Daisy, this is Oliver, a very good friend of mine,” Hermione introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you, Miss. Daisy,” Oliver spoke, tipping his head and giving her a dazzling smile. 

Daisy giggled as she clasped her hands behind her back and rocked on the balls of her feet, and Hermione looked at Oliver with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged in reply and gave her a dazzling smile, too. She just rolled her eyes at him.

“Is he your boyfriend?”

Hermione sighed, pushing her hair back from her face and Oliver turned to look at her with an amused look on his face and an eyebrow raised questioningly.

“No, Daisy, he’s just my friend.”

“You need a boyfriend,” the little girl stated.

Hermione made a noise and frustration and threw her hands up dramatically. “I’m sure I’ve already had this conversation before. Have you been speaking with Hannah?”

The little girl shrugged her shoulders and gave Hermione an innocent smile. Hermione scowled and Oliver chuckled.

“Alright, Daisy, I think that’s enough now. At least let Hermione through the door before your interrogation begins,” Nancy spoke, appearing from around the corner and pulling the door open further in invitation for them to enter.

Hermione stepped into the house and hugged her in greeting whilst Daisy was sent off to be with the other children.

“It’s good to see you again,” Hermione spoke, following after her and noticing that as Oliver followed after them, his eyes took in his surroundings with an unhappy look on his face, obviously not liking what he saw, and she didn’t blame him either.

She and Oliver both took a seat in the small staff room whilst Nancy bustled about, making some tea, putting the completed beverages on the small table and taking a seat herself.

“Before I visit with the children, I have some news,” Hermione spoke, taking a sip from her mug. Nancy gave her a nod of encouragement and a smile pulled at Hermione’s mouth. She turned to look to Oliver, seeing a smile was also on his face, earning a raised eyebrow from the older woman. “Do you recognise Oliver?” Hermione asked.

“Vaguely,” the older woman nodded. “I’m sure I’ve seen you in the papers.”

Oliver smiled kindly. “Am the Captain af Puddlemere United.”

“Oh, I met your teammate, he’s a lovely young man,” she commented.

Oliver tipped his head slightly, not agreeing with or denying her words. “Well, Hermione’s a good friend af mine, an’ both she and Malloy have explained the circumstances surrounding the orphanage, an’ both meself an’ Malloy spoke tae our Coach, in hopes he could do somethin’ tha’ may help.”

Nancy looked at him in intrigue, but also confusion.

“I’ve recently been recruited by Puddlemere and made their team’s healer,” Hermione said.

“That’s wonderful news, congratulations,” the older woman smiled warmly.

“Thank you, anyway, I was hesitant to take the job until they made it so I was unable to refuse. First of all, not only is Puddlemere United going to donate a large sum of money to the orphanage with the stipulation that it is to be used to purchase a new building to house the children and staff, but they’re also going to fund, host and sponsor the fundraiser we’re planning.” Nancy’s mouth fell open and her eyes widened. “The team’s going to be taking a day off from their busy training schedule and they’ll help to run the stalls, as well as offering photographs, autographs and flying lessons. Every knut that is raised goes straight to the orphanage. I spoke with Coach Burton yesterday, the team’s PR Department is going to promote and advertise the fundraiser and they’re going to hire an events planner to take care of the entire day, all we have to do it turn up and make sure the children enjoy themselves.”

“I can’t believe it,” Nancy whispered in reply, her eyes watering.

“That’s not all,” Hermione smiled. “Since I agreed to take the job offer, Puddlemere is also going to pay for the children’s tuition to Hogwarts and further education should they wish to go down that avenue after graduation. I am unsure of how long they plan to do so, but for the time being, that will cover each child that is currently under your care right now.”

The tears were falling down her face freely now, and she gave a slight laugh. “That’s wonderful, thank you so much,” she said, turning to look at Oliver.

He smiled back. “The children have been through a lot an’ they deserve tae be taken care af. We only ensured the big bosses knew af the good work yer doin’ an’ tha’ the circumstances surrounding the orphanage were less than ideal, an’ they agreed. Fer the time bein’ the orphanage will be financially stable, an’ ye’ll be able tae find a better-suited property.”

“There’s something else,” Hermione piped up.

“I’m not sure my heart can take much more,” Nancy laughed, wiping away her tears. Hermione and Oliver chuckled at her.

“Over the last few months, Harry and I have been transferring money into a muggle bank account for a single purpose. We want the children and staff to have the Christmas they deserve. Harry has purchased items of the wizarding variety, he’s also bought several brooms and he’s hired a flying instructor to teach the children for the next year. He should be by later this evening once he’s finished his shift at the Ministry.”

Her mouth had dropped open once more, and then she and Oliver both removed the many boxes from their pockets and resized them. The older woman turned her eyes towards them then back to Hermione and Oliver.

“Whilst Harry has done that, Oliver and I ventured into the Muggle World. Tomorrow morning each child will wake up to gifts under the tree. They’ll each receive a toy, a new pair of shoes and three new outfits. And we’ve also made sure you have everything you need to ensure the children and staff are treated to a wonderful Christmas feast.”

Tears were flowing freely down the older woman’s face and Hermione stood and walked over to her, enveloping her in a tight hug.

“I have no way to repay you for your generosity,” she sniffled.

“Naw repayment necessary, we jus’ want the children tae have a Christmas they’ll never ferget,” Oliver replied.

“We’ll leave you so you can tell the staff about the fundraiser, I’ll visit with the children for a little while and introduce them to Oliver, but we can’t stay long I’m afraid, but I’ll make sure to come back and visit after Christmas.”

After another hug and smiles were exchanged, Hermione and Oliver left the staff room and she led him to the common room where she knew the children would be gathered. They both stood in the doorway, Hermione chuckling when she saw Oliver’s eyes widening at just how many children there were crowded into that single room, seeing them all chatting, laughing and playing.

“What’s the age range?” He asked her, noticing that some of the children appeared to be teenagers and some were considerably younger.

“As far as I know, the youngest is three and the oldest is seventeen. Are you ready to face them?”

“Probably not,” he answered.

She laughed at him. “If you can handle crazy fangirls, you can handle these children. They’re not as bad as you would think. Most of them are really well mannered, even those that can be handfuls.”

She took his hand in hers in a comforting gesture and she tugged him forward into the room and she called out loudly to be heard over the children. Oliver blinked as every single one of them turned to look at them, smiles appearing on their faces at seeing Hermione and the older children look surprised to see him there, too.

“Who here knows my good friend, Oliver Wood, Captain of Puddlemere United?” Hermione asked, smiling when the majority of hands shot up in the air.

~000~000~000~

They’d been at the orphanage and with the children for over an hour, the children crowded around them, asking questions and for Oliver’s autograph, which he happily gave them. Hermione was sure she’d have to massage the cramp out of his hand later on, bless the man.

He was currently sat on an armchair with a gaggle of children sat on the floor surrounding him, listening to him retelling stories of Quidditch matches he’d played in, all of them being enraptured by his words and excited hand gestures.

Hermione watched him fondly as some of the girls sat with her on one of the couches, little Daisy being perched on her lap as she brushed the hair of a girl sat on the ground in front of her, whilst Hermione braided her hair for her. Oliver looked up from the children and sent her a wide smile, his eyes sparkling in his excitement, before turning to look back at the children in front of him. At that smile, Hermione was sure her insides had melted and her stomach flip-flopped. She shook her head and tied off Daisy’s braid, hooking it over the little girl’s shoulder.

“All done,” she told her.

“Thanks, Hermione,” she grinned in reply.

She hopped off Hermione’s lap and ran to find a mirror so she could look at her new hairstyle. Hermione only laughed when Jasmine -another little girl with wild hair to rival her own back in her childhood- climbed on her lap, wishing for Hermione to do her hair, too. She’d lost count of how may braids she’d done in the last hour.

Shaking her hair, she quickly pulled the tangled blonde hair back from the little girl’s face, doing her best to remove some of the knots without hurting her and securing the thick strands in a braid. As she was tying off the braid, Hermione’s eyes caught that of someone entering the room.

It was Evie, Nancy’s daughter. She helped her mother to run the orphanage and look after the children. Hermione thought she looked more like her father than her mother, with her short black hair tied back from her face, her dark eyes framed by even darker lashes and her skin almost as pale as her own.

Hermione’s eyes widened slightly when she caught sight off the bundle in Evie’s arms. The little boy couldn’t have been any older than four months, and as far as Hermione was aware, there hadn’t been any children admitted to the orphanage lately; it must’ve happened after her last visit.

“Hi, Hermione,” the young woman smiled in greeting. “This is our new resident, Timmy.” She nodded to the little boy she was currently feeding a bottle to. “He arrived on Monday. Father unknown and mother died a few days ago,” she explained. “He’s with us until a relative can be found, if not then...” Hermione nodded in understanding. “Would you mind giving him his bottle? Heather, Johnny and David need my help in the kitchen preparing the children’s dinner.”

“Of course,” Hermione smiled at the young woman.

Hermione shifted Jasmine off her lap and accepted the little boy from Evie, settling him into her arms and continuing with feeding him his bottle. Evie thanked her and disappeared from the room, being followed by some of the children begging for her to give them a snack before dinner.

Hermione looked down at the little boy, feeling a smile settle on her face as he stared up at her, quietly drinking his bottle. Hermione couldn’t deny he was of the cutest babies she’d ever seen, not that she’d seen many, mind. He had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen and a thick head of brown hair. His little hand reached out and gripped onto one of her curls, holding it tightly in his closed fist.

A shadow settled over her and she felt a presence beside her; she didn’t have to look to know who it was. She tore eyes away from Timmy and looked up, getting caught in the puppy dog eyes that belonged to Oliver, a surprisingly soft look held on his face.

“I see you escaped,” she said with a smile.

He shook his head slightly and chuckled at her. “It wasnae easy, but a was able tae convince them tha’ we should take a break.”

Georgia who had been sat beside her on the small couch jumped off the cushion and ran out of the room when she was called by another child, and Oliver moved to occupy the space. The couch was so small that he couldn’t sit beside her without his body touching hers, their arms and legs pressed against each other.

“It suits ye,” he commented, his voice soft and a fond look crossed his face as he eyes darted between her and Timmy.

She gave him a smile and turned her eyes back to the little bundle. “I’ve always wanted children,” she confessed. “Not yet though, I’m happy to help here whenever I’m needed, but I’m not ready to be a mum yet, at the moment I’m more of the fun Aunt and I’m happy with that.” He chuckled at her. “I want to wait a few more years before I consider starting a family and of course I need to find someone to do that with. I’m thinking maybe two or three kids.”

He nodded slightly. “A want the same,” he agreed and she turned to look at him.

“You want to have children?” She questioned.

“Aye, but like ye said, am not yet ready tae have kids either. Bein’ an only child is lonely, a’ve always wanted a brother or sister but it never happened, so a’d like tae have a couple af kids so they never know tha’ loneliness. A need tae find someone a can raise a family with, an’ a’d like tae wait a few more years, too, especially since a’ve just made Captain an’ a’ve still got a promising career ahead af mae. A want tae make somethin’ af meself an’ create a legacy tha’ me kids can be proud af.”

Hermione smiled at him. “I assure you, Oliver, you’ve already done so,” she said softly. She looked back down at the child in her arms and missed the fond, almost loving look that entered his eyes.

Timmy finished his bottle soon after and Hermione placed the empty bottle on the ground before shifting Timmy so that he sat on her lap and he was tilted forward slightly as she gently held his face and neck as a support and she patted at his back with the other hand, winding the small child.

“Yer a natural,” Oliver commented, when Timmy gave a loud burp and Hermione praised him with a baby voice and she wiped away the spittle from his mouth with the bib that was around his neck.

“I used to babysit for some of my neighbours once I turned sixteen,” she explained. “As much as I loved my books, even I got bored with reading during the school holidays and with nothing better to do, I found myself agreeing to watch the neighbours’ children. Most of them weren’t too much bother as they were easy to distract and old enough to understand that I was there to watch over them and keep them safe until their parents got home. One or two of them were handfuls as they were at the stage in their lives where they started back talking.” He laughed at her. “But there were three young babies I used to look after whilst their parents were at work. Penny was fourteen months, Jack eight months and the youngest was Hailey at three months. I didn’t mind it. More often than not they were quiet and slept most of the time, and it allowed me to gain experience with children of all ages, which comes in handy given my day job,” she shrugged.

“Do ye still see them? The kids?”

“I haven’t seen them in years, no, not since I left with Harry and Ron during the war,” she shook her head.

She turned her eyes back to Timmy when he gave another loud burp and she wiped the sick from his mouth before shifting him back into her arms, holding him against her chest and rubbing his back gently. As she did this, some of the children would run up to her and Oliver, showing them the pictures they’d drawn before running away with smiles on their faces when they exclaimed how good they were.

Before Hermione knew it, Timmy had fallen asleep and she really needed the toilet. She turned to look at Oliver and he looked away from the little boy showing him his favourite children’s book and to her, raising an eyebrow at the look on her face.

“What?” He questioned.

“I’ve really got to pee.”

“Right?”

She huffed slightly, looking down at the baby asleep on her chest and then back to him. His eyes lit in understanding and he cleared his throat, shuffling in his seat slightly.

“Oh, well, ye might as well give him tae mae,” he spoke with a shrug, trying to hide his discomfort but she saw right through him and they both knew it.

“You won’t hurt him, Oliver; he’s asleep, it’s not as if he’s going to cause you any trouble,” she told him, amusement working into her tone.

She stood from the couch and bent slightly, pulling Timmy away from her chest and resting him against Oliver’s, taking his hand in hers and she pressed it against Timmy’s back to keep him in place, and she stepped back from him.

“See? Nothing to worry about, I’ll be right back.”

Before he could reply she made her way through the crowds of children and out the room, heading to the nearest bathroom. She was gone no more than ten minutes and returned to the common room after being cornered by one of the older boys asking her if she knew when Harry would next be visiting. She took a moment to stand in the doorway and watch Oliver, going unnoticed.

He hadn’t moved from his place on the couch and Timmy was still asleep on his chest with Oliver’s hand pressed against his back, only now, two young children were sat in the seat she’d left, one sat on the armrest beside him, little Holly who was only three was perched on one of his parted knees and leaning against his chest –being mindful of Timmy- and several more children were sat on the ground in front of him, all listening attentively whilst Oliver read aloud from a children’s book.

She leaned against the door frame, a smile pulling at her mouth, her eyes softening and her insides melting at the scene in front of her. She could imagine him being a father; reading to his children, teaching them how to cook, teaching them how to fly and how to play Quidditch. She could imagine him being kind and encouraging, being understanding and patient; Merlin knows he was certainly those things with her and she knew she could be a pain in the arse.

She could imagine him having a son and he’d be a little clone of him with his puppy dog eyes, long lashes and brown hair. She could imagine him having a daughter; she’d be the apple of his eye and he’d treat her like a princess, ensuring that no male got within one hundred yards of her. She knew Oliver would be a wonderful father someday. She could see it, and the visual she’d conjured it had her heart fluttering.

As if sensing her eyes on him, he suddenly looked up from the book and his eyes caught hers, a wide smile appearing on his face when he saw that she was back. She smiled in return and moved into the room, approaching the couch.

“As much as I hate to say this, it’s getting late and we should probably go. We’re due at The Malfoys in a couple of hours and we need to get ready.”

His smile faltered a little in disappointment before he nodded and closed the book, earning noises of frustration from the children, but Hermione was able to shoo them away. Hermione took Timmy from Oliver once more, holding his sleeping form gently against her chest and after saying their goodbyes and with Oliver’s hands filled with drawings from the children, he followed Hermione out of the room and through the building until they reached the kitchen. Hermione called for Evie and she appeared in the hallway they stood in.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry Hermione, I hadn’t meant to be gone for so long, but the stove wouldn’t light and then there was a spillage, and then Johnny cut himself, and Heather...”

Hermione chuckled, cutting her off. “Don’t worry about it, he’s no bother,” she told the rambling woman. “We’d like to stay but we do have to get going, we’re expected somewhere shortly.”

“Of course, I’ll just be right back.” She disappeared behind the door and come back out moments later after removing her apron and washing her hands, taking the sleeping baby from Hermione carefully as to not wake him. “Thank you, Hermione.”

Hermione smiled. “You don’t need to thank me, he’s a sweet baby. He finished his bottle, he’s been burped and he’s been asleep for about half an hour.” Evie nodded her thanks. “We better get going, I’ll see you later.”

They both turned and left down the hallway, Hermione popping her head into Nancy’s office to say a quick goodbye and they stepped out of the orphanage and made their way back to The Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Alley still be heavily crowded with last-minute shoppers.

“Yer visiting again, right?” Oliver spoke.

She turned her head to look up at him and smiled knowingly. “I am; I try my best to visit once a week.”

“Can a come with ye?”

Her smile widened. “Of course, the children loved you. And I must say, you were rather good with them.” He ducked his head slightly and she laughed at him. “So, change of topic. We’re due at Malfoy Manor around seven. Given the time we’re at now, we should still have time to have a light dinner and get ready for the ball. There isn’t a meal but there will be finger-food.”

He nodded. “Alright, hoo aboot soup, it won’t take long tae make an’ it shouldn’t be tae heavy on the stomach tha’ we won’t want tae eat anythin’ later.”

“Perfect, let’s go home and get ready.”

Oliver would be lying if he said he didn’t like it whenever she referred to the manor as home, and he slipped his large hand around her much smaller one and guided her through the crowds, keeping their heads down and making sure their hoods were up to conceal their identities. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 8

**Wood Estate – Thursday 24th December 1998**

After returning to the manor and eating dinner together, she and Oliver had parted ways to their respective bedrooms to ready for the ball. Knowing that she had plenty of time, she’d had a shower, washed her hair and went about cleaning herself, before having a relaxing bubble bath filled with her favourite scented oils and a Calming Draught, knowing she was going to need it to get through the night. Even with having Oliver with her, there was going to be a hell of a lot of people present at the ball and she worried that something might trigger another memory or a panic attack, and for that reason, she added a second Calming Draught to the water.

Once she’d stepped out of the bath and dried herself off, she quickly dressed in her ball gown, applied a little bit of makeup and fixed her hair, and now Hermione was stood in front of the mirror in her bathroom, staring at herself and being pleasantly surprised by her appearance.

The gown truly was beautiful but seeing as Narcissa Malfoy had been the one to gift it to her, nothing less was expected. Knowing that woman, Hermione actually suspected that the gown had been hand made specifically for her, after all, it fit perfectly to her frame and it wouldn’t have been difficult for the older woman to cast a few Measurement Charms on her without her noticing.

The gown, it was perfect for a Christmas ball, she thought. The material was soft and light, and a snowy white colour. It appeared plain at first but when the light caught it, you could see flecks of sparkle, as if it had been made of glitter. If you were close enough, you could see that while the fitted bodice was plain, the skirt was far from it. The skirt was made in such a way that it looked to have been made from thousands and thousands of snowflakes, as it flared out at the hips slightly and then fell to the floor.

The dress itself was off the shoulder with lace detailing for the straps, showing off her neck and collar bones. Feeling self-conscious, she’d made sure to glamour her visible scars and she’d covered her ‘Mudblood’ scar with makeup, casting a charm over the top to ensure it didn’t wipe off or stain her dress.

With a few spells, she was able to get her curls to fall more smoothly than normal and she’d pinned it back from her face in a half-up half-down sort of style, the curls falling down to the middle of her back. Her makeup she’d kept simple, just a little mascara to lengthen and darken her lashes, and a red lip stain, standing out against her pale skin, perfectly outlining the shape of her mouth and making her teeth look even whiter than they already were.

Her jewellery had come with the dress, a pair of silver dangle earrings with small snowflakes, the matching choker necklace fastened securely around her neck and the snowflake pendant resting just below her throat, a silver bracelet which looked to have been made entirely from snowflakes, too, and finally, a small, silver tiara.

She hadn’t wanted to wear it, thinking it would be too gaudy, but she knew Narcissa would be upset if she didn’t and she was a little bit curious to see what it would look like, so she placed it on her head, surprised to see that it seemed to be the finishing touch she’d felt was missing.

With no more time to waste, she picked up the white mask that would cover her cheeks, partially her nose and surround her eyes, before turning and leaving the bathroom, being glad she’d remembered to cast the Balancing and Cushioning Charms on her strappy heels.

Her footsteps echoed throughout the manor as she walked down the hallway and into the living room, seeing Oliver stood with his back to her and by the bar, looking down at the tumbler of fire whiskey in his hand.

From her place she was surprised to see that he hadn’t opted for traditional or dress robes, instead, he’d gone down the muggle route and was wearing black dress shoes, a white shirt, a black tuxedo and a black bow tie. He had what looked to be a mask similar in style to hers, only it was all black. She knew muggle fashion was slowly making its way into the Wizarding World, particularly the casual and party wear, but she hadn’t expected him to opt for the muggle tux, though she did admit, he looked devastatingly handsome, and that was with his back to her.

Apparently noticing her presence, he turned to look at her with a smile on his face before it suddenly dropped; his eyes widening, his mouth parting and his breathing stopping altogether as he caught sight of her.

In his mind, he thought he’d never seen someone so beautiful; her dress fitting her perfectly and suiting her well. Her jewellery matching and sparking in the light, much like her dress. And her mask, fitting to the shape of her face and making her eyes look even bigger. The silver, glittery accents of the mask matched the tiara that sat on top of her head, and her curls flowed down her back.

She looked like some sort of princess. His eyes caught sight of the snowflakes on her jewellery and then he noticed the snowflake pattern of her dress, too. Winter. She looked like the Princess of Winter.

Complete, utterly, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

She shuffled on her feet and nibbled at her lip nervously, his eyes zeroed in on the action before he shook his head, reminding himself to pull himself together and to breathe lest he passes out.

He took a deep breath and placed his tumble on the bar behind him before slowly approaching her, stopping in front of her and with her heels, she was closer to his height than usual, but he was still taller than her.

“Hermione...” He breathed out, still taking in her beautiful appearance. “Ye look stunning. Absolutely stunning.”

Even under her mask, he saw her cheeks flame red and he realised that he liked that he could make her blush.

“Thank you, you like quite dashing yourself,” she replied, her voice a little breathier than usual and she reached up to straighten out his bow tie for him.

“Shall we get going?”

He nodded eagerly, offering her his arm and she hooked hers through his before heading to the fireplace. Given she had access to Malfoy Manor through the floo network, they’d both decided to skip the initial waiting in line to go through security. There were very few people The Malfoys trusted to allow access to their home, and so it wouldn’t be a problem if they skipped going through security anyway. They stepped into the fireplace and Hermione called out the address.

~000~000~000~

**Malfoy Manor**

They stepped out into Malfoy Manor and after brushing the soot from their clothing, Oliver allowed Hermione to lead the way since she obviously knew where she was going. As they walked through the halls and they neared their destination, the sound of an orchestra grew louder and louder, until they came to the open doors which showcased the large ballroom.

It was complete with large, beautiful chandeliers, extravagant directions of silk and satin swatches, floating candles and fairies, and the ceiling was enchanted for snow to fall, but never touching the occupants of the room. The ballroom itself looked to be larger than the great hall at Hogwarts and it was filled with more people than either of them could count. Some were stood off in little groups chatting and conversing amongst each other, some were on the dance floor, twirling and swaying to the beautiful melody, and others were sat at the tables around the room, drinking wine and champagne and eating finger-foods, which were being carried around on trays by house-elves dressed in black and white attire.

It was definitely a Malfoy party.

“There’s so many people,” Hermione said quietly, but he’d heard her still.

“A’ll be with ye all night, even if we get separated a’ll still be in the same room an’ a won’t be far away,” he said softly. “If at any point ye feel uncomfortable we’ll head home where we can argue over who’s cheatin’ at poker.” A smile pulled at her mouth. “Deal?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Deal,” she agreed.

“Good, shall we?”

“We shall, we’ll have to greet Narcissa and Lucius first, but otherwise we’re free to do as we please.”

With his left hand, he held her hand gently in his, and his right hand was pressed against the small of her back, guiding her forward and into the ballroom, both of them noticing that they received a few curious glances but no one approached them. It would be easy for him to blend in, but with Hermione looking like a Snow Queen and her beauty being so captivating, she stuck out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t hard to find the elder Malfoys, seeing as Lucius’ hair was a dead give away, and they both approached them, Narcissa Malfoy gasping in delight when she spotted Hermione nearing.

“My Goodness, you look more beautiful in that gown than I imagined you would,” she complimented.

Hermione smiled shyly, stepping away from Oliver and dropping his hand to give the older woman a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Thank you, and as I said, you look stunning and no one compares to you,” Hermione said, looking over her dark green robes and the matching mask with silver, glittery accents and her dark hair in an elegant bun.

Narcissa laughed lightly. “You are too kind.”

Lucius stepped forward and took her hand in his, bowing over it and placing a kiss to her knuckles.

“You look lovely, My Dear,” he said softly, standing up straight and giving her a smile. She smiled in return, eyeing his immaculate black dress robes and his mask that matched Narcissa’s, his hair being left to hang down over his shoulders. “And who do we have here?” He asked, pointedly looking at Oliver who stood a little ways behind her.

She looked over her shoulder and they both shared a slightly worried glance. They hadn’t thought of how they would introduce him yet. They could change his name, but his accent was a dead giveaway; anyone who had heard him speak before might be able to recognise him for who he was.

Hermione turned back to look at the elder Malfoys and they both raised questioning eyebrows when she bit her lip and shuffled on her feet. “Well, we don’t want to give you his actual name, if it got back to the wrong people it could be disastrous.”

“I presume you are referring to Mr. Weasley,” Narcissa spoke, a tone of dislike in her voice.

“Yes,” Hermione lied. “So, we’ll just say this is James Jones,” she spoke, feeling Oliver step closer to her side and he looked at her amused for the name she’d given him. “They’re very common names,” she explained with a shrug.

The amusement didn’t leave his eyes but he did turn his attention to the elder Malfoys, both of them looking at him appraisingly.

“It’s a pleasure tae meet ye, Mrs. Malfoy,” he spoke, accepting her hand in his and bowing over it, but not kissing it as he was not a relative or an acquaintance of the family, as was tradition. They both raised eyebrows at his clear Scottish accent but didn’t comment on it.

“And you as well, Mr. Jones,” she said, giving him a polite smile when he pulled back from her.

He then shook Lucius’ hand, feeling himself wince slightly when the elder man squeezed harder than what was considered appropriate, and Oliver wasn’t blind to the protective look that flashed through the older wizard’s eyes when he looked between him and Hermione. He slipped his slightly aching hand to the small of Hermione’s back, flexing his fingers in hopes it would help to reduce the pain.

“Where’s Draco? He hasn’t called for my services in the last few days, I’m almost worried,” Hermione spoke, breaking the staring match between the two wizards.

Narcissa smiled. “I believe he is greeting the guests as they arrive and will join us shortly.”

Hermione nodded and smiled. “Well, I suppose it would be impolite of us not to mingle, so we’ll leave you to your devices.”

They shared nods and promises to speak again before Oliver offered her his arm and they stepped away to join the party.

~000~000~000~

They’d been at the Malfoy’s Christmas Eve ball for several hours now and in the time that had passed, they’d briefly spoken to some of the guests who easily recognised Hermione, but thankfully no one had seen through their lie regarding Oliver’s true identity.

She’d made sure to purposely avoid coming into contact with the likes of Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, both of who still hated her as much as they had in school, despite the fact that the elder Malfoys seemed to adore her and that she had a strange friendship with Draco, which only added fuel to their hatred of her.

Hermione wasn’t particularly bothered by that fact, but she didn’t want to cause a scene and disrupt the evening, so she made sure that she and Oliver were as far away from those two as possible, even going so far as to duck behind a table when they walked past.

Hermione and Oliver had only had a few glasses of champagne, wishing for them to both be alert should anything occur, not that it would, but they were both aware of the dangerous circumstances surrounding Hermione. The stalkers could be someone she’d met in the past, they could be someone she knew or someone she didn’t. For all they knew one of them may have been in attendance at the ball given the number of attendees, and therefore they were both cautious of those around them.

They often snuck off to sit at a table, speaking between each other quietly and nibbling at the foods the house-elves offered them. If not, Oliver had coaxed her onto the dance floor a few times and she was surprised to see he was a fantastic dancer, him explaining that he’d been forced to take lessons as a young child as was tradition within the Pureblood society.

Despite them both being cautious, Hermione found that she was actually enjoying herself; Oliver being a wonderful date, keeping her distracted and entertained. He’d barely left her side, if only to use the bathroom and he’d made sure she was in conversation with Narcissa and Lucius before he’d done so.

His hand was always on the small of her back, gently guiding her through the crowds of people in the large ballroom, he was always stood beside her or behind her, almost protectively and she wasn’t blind to the less than pleased looks he’d send to those that he caught staring at her. Once his hand had twitched and reached for his wand when a wizard had sent him a challenging look and a leering look towards Hermione. She’d quickly intervened and dragged him away for the situation, pulling him off to the side of the room and speaking to him quietly until he calmed down. She’d be lying if she said that his behaviour made her heart flutter and her breath to hitch. 

But after being there for so long now, Hermione was beginning to tire from the interacting and conversing with others and the dancing, and both she and Oliver were due at their parents’ early in the morning, meaning they both needed their sleep. With this thought in mind, they’d both agreed that it was time to call it a night and to head home.

They’d made their rounds and said their goodbyes, and Oliver headed to the toilet whilst she searched for Draco. She’d only seen him a few times during that night and no more than for a few minutes at a time as he appeared to be trying to avoid both Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass, too, both of who were intent on getting their way and marrying him. He was very much against the idea.

“You are leaving, Dear?”

Hermione smiled at Narcissa as she approached her and Lucius. “Yes, I’ve a busy day ahead of me in the morning so I best get some sleep. Do you happen to know where Draco is?”

Narcissa smiled at her, and Hermione wasn’t blind to the way Lucius seemed to look at his wife with a suspicious look on his face.

“Actually, Dear, he’s was looking for you, too, why don’t you wait on the balcony and I’ll have a house-elf inform him that you are waiting for him?”

Hermione agreed and after hugs and kisses to the cheek were exchanged, she made her way through the crowd and to the large balcony that overlooked the grounds of the manor, missing Lucius’ next words.

“What are you up to, Cissy?”

Narcissa smiled innocently and kissed his cheek. “You’ll see,” was all she said, before walking away from her husband, leaving him staring after her.

Hermione had barely been stood on the balcony for a few minutes -being grateful that it was charmed against the cold weather- when she heard footsteps. She turned to look over her shoulder and expected to Draco, only it wasn’t him, it was Oliver.

“Are ye ready tae go, Damsel?” He asked, stopping beside her and leaning against the balcony rail.

“I was just waiting for Draco, Narcissa said he would meet me here so I could say my goodbyes before we left, but it seems he’s otherwise busy. Let’s just go.”

He offered her his arm and she slipped her arm through his, before they both headed towards the doors and back into the ballroom, only they didn’t make it. They’d tried to step forward only for them to bump into an invisible barrier that wouldn’t let them pass.

They both frowned, looking to each other for answers before their eyes searched their surroundings and they looked up and saw the reason for their entrapment.

Magical mistletoe was gently floating above their heads, bobbing slightly in the air.

There was only one way to escape. 


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 7

**Malfoy Manor – Thursday 24th December 1998**

"Oh," Hermione muttered softly, her eyes falling down to Oliver's face and seeing that he was just as surprised as she was. "What are the chances?" She laughed lightly.

Shaking her head, she leaned closer to him and reached up to peck him on the cheek, her lips briefly touching his skin before she pulled away and looked up to the mistletoe expectantly. It was still there, bobbing in the air above their heads. She frowned.

"A guess it wisnae enough," Oliver spoke, his eyes locking on her face and tracing her soft features.

"I guess not," she nodded. "Oh, well," she said, before she leaned closer and pecked him lightly on his lips and pulling back from him so fast, she'd barely felt it.

They both looked up to the mistletoe. It hadn't moved.

"Seriously," Hermione sighed.

"There's only one way we're gettin' oot af this," Oliver told her.

She huffed, blowing a fallen curl out of her face and he chuckled at her before he took her by surprise, his hand coming up to brush the curl aside before both of his hands moved to hold her face gently and he tilted her face up towards his. His eyes roamed her face before getting caught in her gaze.

Hermione couldn't help but be taken in by his beautiful eyes, seeing the way they sparkled in the lights surrounding them. Was he really going to kiss her? Like, _kiss_ her, kiss her. It seemed a simple peck on the lips wasn't going to do the job, so would they have to snog to be set free?

Merlin, she wasn't sure how she'd be able to handle it! She'd be lying if she said she didn't think he was handsome because anyone with eyes could see that he was, and she'd be lying if she said she hadn't had curious thoughts about what it would be like to kiss him, but she'd never thought they'd be put in a situation where they'd actually have to snog.

No, she was a big witch and she could handle it. She cared for Oliver, as a friend, like she cared for Harry. It would probably be a bit awkward, but they could do it. They were friends.

His face slowly lowered and Hermione tilted her head a little more and her eyes fluttered closed when he placed a soft kiss against her mouth, his lips soft and warm and moulding to hers perfectly. It was a simple press of lips that lasted a little longer than hers had, and he pulled back to give a quick glance to the mistletoe above their heads, seeing it still there.

He stared at her, seeing her eyes were closed, her features relaxed and her mouth twitching at the corners. Merlin, she was beautiful. He'd been a little worried at first, worried that in order for them to escape they'd have to kiss. After what she'd been through, he didn't want a kiss shared between them to harm her, to set her back in the progress she'd made, but she'd taken the first step letting him know that it was okay. He hoped things wouldn't be awkward between them because when him kissing her didn't work, he knew what he had to do. He'd have to snog her.

Of course, he thought she was beautiful, and of course, he'd wondered what a kiss shared between them would be like, but he never thought they'd get to that point in their relationship. They were friends, good friends and he didn't want anything to jeopardise that, even if the thought of her being with another wizard unsettled him. And if they _had_ gotten to that point, he hadn't thought it would be because of mistletoe keeping them prisoner. He hoped it wouldn't change anything between them. He steeled himself, he was a big wizard and he could handle a kiss with a beautiful woman, it wouldn't be his first after all. He could get through this...He hoped.

When he saw the signs of her eyes about to open, he lowered his head and pressed his lips against hers, this time with the intent to snog her silly. If he had to do it, then he was going to do it right and he'd make sure it would be something she'd never be able to forget.

Her soft, plump lips moulded against his as they tentatively moved their lips against one another's, and when Oliver was sure Hermione was fine and not on the verge of having a panic attack, he moved to deepen the kiss. His hands slipped from her face and down to cradle the back of her neck, his fingers getting caught in the soft curls at the back of her neck and he tilted her head up a little more.

Slowly, his tongue darted out to trace her bottom lip and Hermione parted her lips for him, allowing him entrance and surprising him as her tongue moved to greet his when he entered her mouth. He felt her hands come up to grip at the lapels of his jacket and she tugged gently, pulling herself closer to him as she titled her head to the side slightly, allowing him the chance to explore her mouth a little more.

Being too engrossed in each other, neither of them noticed the 'pop' of the mistletoe disappearing, alerting them to the fact they were free to leave. Even the sound of approaching footsteps and glass shattering didn't pull them away from each other.

Only when Hermione's hand wound up to bury in his hair and she tugged lightly on the soft strands pulling a surprised groan from him, did Hermione startle. Pulling back from him and allowing her eyes to open, she knew she was blushing madly when his eyes locked onto hers. If she wasn't already breathless and her heart beating fast, she knew she would be the moment he smiled at her, his thumbs gently brushing over her jaw and sending shivers down her spine.

Merlin! Did he have to be so handsome!

Needing to tear her eyes away from him lest she do or say something to embarrass herself, her eyes flickered upwards, seeing that the mistletoe was no longer there.

"It seems we're free," Oliver muttered softly, his eyes also moving to look above them.

She cleared her throat and nodded. "Well, we both have to be up early in the morning so we better get home," she spoke, doing her best not to sound too breathless.

He nodded in agreement and his hands dropped from her face and he stepped back from her as she released her grip on his jacket and hair, awkwardly bringing her hands down by her side.

"Let's go then," he spoke, holding his hand out for her.

She looked up at him shyly through her eyelashes and his mouth twitched at the sight, especially since her blush had yet to fade from her cheeks. She placed her hand in his and he stepped forward, resting his other hand against the small of her back as he guided her off the balcony, through the crowds of people in the ballroom and back to the fireplace where they floo'd back to Wood Manor.

~000~000~000~

"Lucius, what did you do?"

The blonde wizard felt his mouth twitching before he rearranged his features to show confusion as he turned to face his beautiful wife, the first thing he saw being a scowl on her face and her arms crossed over her chest. She was not pleased with him. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she huffed at him.

"You meddled,"

His mouth twitched. "No, My Dear, _you_ meddled, I only set things back to order."

"They're perfect for each other," she replied, her scowl morphing into a sad frown and her lip jutting out slightly.

He chuckled at her and reached out to take her hand in his, gently running his thumb over her knuckles. He knew the moment he saw her whispering with a house-elf before hiding out on the adjacent balcony what she had planned.

Narcissa had always wanted a daughter but they'd been unable to have any more children after Draco had been born. In the time that Hermione had been caring for his family, Narcissa had grown close to the young witch and she loved her as a daughter, and she wanted to make it official through marriage to Draco.

Unlike Lucius, Narcissa couldn't see that a relationship between his son and the bright witch wouldn't work. Whilst they were both intelligent and strong and stubborn, their behaviour towards one another was more like that of siblings, not lovers. Hermione could never see Draco as a romantic partner, and Draco could never see Hermione as a wife and the mother of his future children. They weren't compatible, and Narcissa refused to see that. So when he saw her whispering away to a house-elf, he knew he had to put a stop to whatever she'd been planning.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to prevent the house-elf from retrieving the mistletoe and spelling it in place and he hadn't been able to prevent the house-elf from summoning Draco to the balcony, but he had been able to stop him from reaching his destination.

The moment Draco made an appearance after hiding from Pansy Parkinson for most of the night; Lucius had soon pulled his son into conversation long enough for Hermione's date to find her on the balcony before Draco could.

"No, Cissy, as much as I care for the little witch, she and Draco are not suited to one another. A marriage between them would not work; their relationship is that of friends, siblings, there are no feelings shared between them other than those of a platonic nature, and you should not interfere in either of their lives. We made a promise that we would allow Draco to choose his own future and we would support him, and we have no right to interfere with Hermione's, as much as you wish it, she is not your daughter."

Narcissa's face filled with sadness before she nodded, gathered herself and stood up taller, her calm mask slipping back into place.

"I know, no more meddling," she promised. He smiled at her and lifted her hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

"And by the looks of things, she does not need your help," he said, knowing it to be true after catching a glimpse of what had occurred on the balcony between Hermione and her date.

"It would seem so," Narcissa agreed. "They barely left the other's side since their arrival."

Lucius nodded. "I have been watching them, he seems to be protective of her. They interact in such a way that if they were strangers, I would assume they were married."

"Do you know who he is, his voice seemed familiar somehow?" She asked him.

"I don't know who he is, but I am in agreement; his voice did seem familiar. If their relationship develops into something serious, I've no doubt it'll be front-page news."

Narcissa sighed. "Well, if she and Draco can't be together, I must admit they make a lovely couple. From what I've witnessed this evening he will be good for her; I can't remember seeing her smile so much when he's in her presence."

~000~000~000

**Wood Estate**

Stepping out of the flames and dusting themselves down, Hermione removed her hand from his and stepped away from him, refusing to meet his eyes.

"Well, good night, Oliver. I hope you and your family have a wonderful Christmas and I'll see you after the holidays."

Oliver nodded. "Night, Damsel," he said, before leaning closer to press a kiss to her cheek. The redness of her skin only darkened. "Merry Christmas," he said softly.

Hermione cleared her throat, gave him a shy smile and all but turned and ran to her room, closing the door behind her and leaning back against the door, a sigh leaving her and her head tilting back.

"I'm screwed," she said to herself.

She was wrong, now she knew she wouldn't be able to handle the aftermath of their kiss. She was hoping that her curiosity had been satisfied and she'd be able to move on and forget it ever happened, but that wasn't the case, because she realised something. She _liked_ Oliver.

He _was_ as good a kisser as he was at playing Quidditch and that came with the realisation that he'd had a lot of practice; he'd been with other women and she found herself feeling jealous. She pulled a face at herself, since when did she get jealous? Especially over a man? She had no right to feel such a thing; they weren't together, they were just friends, but she didn't want to be just friends.

He was kind and generous and smart, he was considerate and wonderful, and he cheated at poker to purposely rile her up. He was protective of her, she hadn't been blind to the looks he'd been sending other men that night, she hadn't been blind to the staring matches he'd had with other men, nor to the fact he barely left her side. He wanted to keep her safe, not for any reason other than he actually cared for her health and well-being. He didn't get anything out of all the trouble he went to for her, everything he did was solely for her and without an ulterior motive. He was the first person to do such a thing.

And his kiss! Merlin, his kiss had surprised her. He was gentle and playful and explorative. He hadn't kissed her, no; he'd _snogged_ her into a tizzy. He'd snogged her in a way no one ever had before. He'd left her breathless and weak-kneed and feeling all warm and fuzzy. She shamefully admitted that she hadn't wanted it to end; she wished she hadn't startled and that he hadn't allowed her to pull away from him.

She realised that not only did she like Oliver, but she wanted more from him. She realised that she genuinely cared for him and in a way she hadn't any other wizard before. Not Dean, not Ron, even Viktor; and she'd adored him. She realised, that despite how long she'd known him, that it was quite possible she was falling for him.

"I'm so screwed," she groaned.

She pushed herself away from the door, pulled off her mask and flopped onto her bed, groaning when Merlin pounced on top of her.

"It's fine, I can deal with this. I can keep it a secret, he doesn't have to know," she told herself, her fingers coming up to press against her lips gently, still feeling the ghost of his touch.

~000~000~000~

Oliver watched Hermione leave the room and he listened to her footsteps echoing throughout the manor until he heard her bedroom door closing and he let out a sigh.

"Am screwed," he muttered to himself, reaching up to run his hand through his hair.

He now knew he'd been wrong; their kiss had affected him in ways he never expected it to. Her lips had been soft and plump as they moulded against his own. Her tongue had been teasing and playful when she'd opened up for him. Her body had been warm and soft as she was pressed against him with his hands angling her head and his fingers buried in her wild curls. When they'd separated she'd looked beautiful with her slightly red and swollen lips, her cheeks filled with a blush and her hair a little messier than before after having the soft strands curling around his fingers.

She'd surprised him. He'd been expecting her to be timid and hesitant but that hadn't been the case. She'd been confident and not afraid of matching his own intentions and she'd certainly _snogged_ him, too.

Shaking his head he made his way over to the bar and poured himself some fire whiskey, staring down at the amber coloured liquid as he swilled it in the tumbler.

He couldn't remember a time when a kiss had made him feel so... He wasn't even sure what he was feeling.

Once he'd hit his third year at Hogwarts, he'd never been shy of girls trying to get his attention. They'd always been a witch that was happy to throw themselves at him, and whilst he has bedded his fair share of witches, he's never had an actual girlfriend. Those that didn't want him for his fame and wealth couldn't handle his intense training schedule or his borderline obsession with Quidditch, and he'd never felt comfortable enough to let down his barriers. He'd always been a private person, even with his parents and yet Hermione was the first person he felt at ease around.

He felt he didn't have to worry about keeping up the appearance of Oliver Wood, Quidditch Star. He could be himself, the wizard that loved to cook and just fly for the sake of having fun and being free from expectations. He didn't have to pretend he was something he wasn't, and his training schedule and love for Quidditch didn't bother her, in fact, she'd taken an interest in something that was highly important to him, not complaining when he spent hours talking about the sport despite her not understanding a single word he said.

He liked who he was around her. He felt different when he was around her. He didn't feel as numb or lonely. He liked that she allowed him to see her imperfections, he liked that she allowed him to comfort her, he liked that she trusted him with her secrets. She had no expectations of him, well, except to make her chicken pie for dinner, he thought with a snort.

Her kiss had ignited feelings inside of him that he'd never experienced with a witch before. He wasn't even sure what to name them.

He was thinking that maybe his mother was right. He _did_ want more from Hermione. He didn't just want to be her friend; he wanted to be someone she could count on. He wanted to take care of her, to protect her and keep her safe. He wanted to come home to her after a hard day at training and see her waiting for him whilst she read a book and snuggled with Merlin. He wanted to continue playing muggle board games with her; he wanted to spend time with her. He wanted to teach her how to fly, and to swim and cook and he wanted her to show him how to bake and make pancakes. He wanted her to talk about the things she'd discovered in the medical field and he wanted to listen to her trying to solve unknown medical cases. He wanted to visit the children at the orphanage with her and he wanted to take walks down Diagon Alley with her small hand held by his. He wanted to always be surrounded by her scent of lemon and jasmine; it was comforting and warm and familiar.

He realised that maybe he was falling in love with her.

"Shit," Oliver grumbled, downing his tumbler of fire whiskey. "Alright, a can handle this, she doesn't have tae know," he said to himself, putting the empty tumbler on the bar and making his way to his own room, his eyes straying and locking on Hermione's bedroom door until he entered his own room. 


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 14

**Granger Residence – Saturday 26th December 1998**

“Hermione, Dear, breakfast’s ready!”

Hermione gave a sleepy grumble as her mother’s voice carried up the stairs and into her bedroom, waking her from her slumber.

“Hermione!”

Her father’s voice followed not long after, amusement laced into his tone knowing that whilst she was a morning person, she hated being woken up by others, and the only days she actually enjoyed a sleep in were her birthday, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. They only came three times a year, so why couldn’t they let her sleep?

“We’ll be late if you don’t get out of bed, do you really want your God awful Aunt Karen complaining about our tardiness!”

“Richard!”

A smile pulled at Hermione’s mouth at her mother’s scolding and she sniggered at the words that soon followed.

“How dare you? We both know Claire’s the worst of the bunch. Come on, Hermione, your sausages are getting cold!”

At the mention of sausages, Merlin seemed to spring awake and he bounded off the end of her bed, pushed the door open further and darted downstairs, her mother’s laughter mixing with Merlin’s barks.

“Of course, I have some for you, too,” her mother’s voice carried.

Sighing, Hermione knew that she had to get up. As much as she wished it, she couldn’t stay home all day and snuggle with her dog as she read a book. It was the day she’d been dreading for months, The Granger annual family reunion, and she was most certainly not looking forward to it.

Rolling onto her back, she stretched out her body with her hands above her head before throwing the thick duvet off herself, standing from the bed and making her way over to her bedroom window. Throwing open the plum coloured curtains, she was met with the sight of a greying sky, snowflakes slowly falling from the sky and the ground being covered in snow.

The day before it had snowed heavily and normally Hermione wasn’t particularly fond of the cold weather, but it being Christmas day had made it seem all the more magical. The previous morning she’d left Wood Manor before Oliver had even woken, and after making herself some breakfast and leaving a plate behind for Oliver under a Stasis Charm, she’d left the manor and floo’d to her parents’ house after Hermione had arranged for them to have their fireplace connected to the Floo Network a few months ago. Naturally, she was the only one to have access so she never had to worry about someone possibly targeting her parents.

After spending the morning and most of the afternoon with her parents, she’d floo’d over to The Burrow, leaving Merlin behind lest he attacks Ron. Things had been tense and awkward between Hermione and Ron and while the others had certainly noticed, no one had mentioned it, them all believing they’d only had a fight which was usual for them, but what they didn’t realise was that Hermione had no intention of ever repairing her relationship with Ron. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Harry had been the most concerned, knowing both her and Ron so well, but he’d learned to not get involved and to let them sort out their own problems without his meddling, it was safer that way.

After presents had been exchanged, Hermione had been careful to keep herself to herself as much as possible, flinching every time someone hugged her and touched her unexpectedly. If anyone noticed, they didn’t mention it, as it was the only ones exempt were Harry and Mrs. Weasley.

After dinner had been eaten, they’d all stepped outside to watch some of the twins’ fireworks and they sat around the fire chatting and having a few drinks before Hermione left home to sit in the living room with her parents, watching old Christmas re-runs and eating some of her mother’s famous Christmas pudding, before heading to bed for the night.

Shaking her head, she moved away from the window and picked up her discarded clothing that was left on the floor from the night before, and she deposited them in her hamper. After quickly making her bed and returning the stack of her favourite childhood children’s books to the shelf on the wall, she made for the door.

As he walked past the window she came to a sudden stop, a frown pulling at her face and she took several steps backwards, her eyes searching the street and not seeing anything. She shook her head, she could’ve sworn she’d seen someone stood watching the house.

Brushing her hair back from her face, she exited her room and made her way down the stairs and into the kitchen, rolling her eyes when she saw her mother sat at the table eating her breakfast and her father sat opposite her, the morning paper being spread out on the table in front of him while he ‘sneakily’ stole a piece of bacon from the side plate and fed Merlin it beneath the table.

“Seriously, Dad!” Hermione sighed. He shrugged his shoulders and turned the page in his newspaper.

“Eat your breakfast, Dear, we’re to meet the others in less than an hour and a half,” Hermione’s mother spoke.

Taking a seat at the table, Hermione soon tucked into her sausages, bacon and toast and she drank down her tea. As she excused herself to ready for the coming day her mother stopped her.

“Oh, I forgot, an owl dropped by this morning, there’s a letter for you on the counter,” she said.

Frowning slightly, Hermione retrieved the letter and made her way to her room, shutting the door behind her and placing the envelope on her bedside table. She pulled her wand from beneath her pillow and ran a series of diagnostic checks and upon seeing it was clean, she put her wand down and opened the letter.

Her heart rate picked up, her head went fuzzy and her face drained of colour.

_Hermione, My Love,_

_I do hope you’ve had a wonderful Christmas with your parents, and I am terribly sorry that I was unable to celebrate this holiday with you. My life right now is not something I wish to expose you to, I wish to protect you from the dangers of the world and hopefully, next Christmas we will finally be together._

_I am only hopeful that my gift to you makes up for the lack of my presence this year..._

_Until we meet,_

_Be safe and continue to be the light in my darkness._

_P.s. I must say, Little Dove, I do so love to see you so comfortable in front of me, I’ve always loved you in red, and those shorts are sure to feature in my dreams._

Hermione felt her hands shaking as the letter fell from her hands and landed on the ground of her wooden floorboards. She looked down at herself, seeing herself sporting a pair of red cotton shorts and a red silk button-down shirt. Realisation crashed down on her.

Reaching for her wand and gripping it tightly in her hand, she closed her eyes tightly and took a large gulp of oxygen in hopes of centring herself and she moved over to her window, her eyes searching for anything out of the ordinary. Not seeing anything, she reached for the curtains and pulled them closed before her arms folded around herself protectively.

She struggled to breathe, her chest heaving and little gasps leaving her as panic began to set in. Hearing Merlin bark from the floor below, Hermione took a breath and unfolded her arms before she retrieved the letter from the ground and her beaded bag, and then she darted down the stairs and into the kitchen.

“Hermione, Dear, what’s wrong?” Her mother asked worriedly, immediately seeing her pale and sickly complexion and her slightly shaking form.

“I’m afraid I’ve been called away, the letter was a request for my help. There’s been an explosion at a potions lab and St. Mungo’s need my assistance as they’re short-staffed.” Her mother opened her mouth to speak. “I’m sorry, but I have to go, I’ll visit as soon as I can,” she said, turning on her heel and quickly moving to the fireplace with Merlin not far behind her.

She’d already floo’d away before her parents had even reached the living room.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Stepping out into the living room of Wood Manor, she dropped her beaded bag to the ground and darted from the room to her bedroom, finding her way into the walk-in wardrobe and positioning herself in the corner of the room and beneath the clothes that hung from hangers. Curling herself into as small a ball as possible, the letter fell from her grasp and she buried her face against her knees, the dam finally breaking.

Wood Manor was the only place she felt safe and protected, it was the only place she knew he couldn’t find her.

Tears fell from her eyes forcefully, her entire body shook uncontrollably and she gasped and hiccupped, struggling to catch her breath as images suddenly flashed through her mind.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Residence**

“Mornin’, Oliver,”

“Mornin’, Ma, hoo are ye feelin’?” He asked his mother, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he walked past her and to his own chair, giving his father a smile of greeting as he flicked through that morning’s _Daily Prophet_.

“Better than a have in a long time,” she answered with a warm smile, before turning to thank Penny the house-elf as she fixed her morning cup of tea to her liking.

“Thank ye, Kipper,” Oliver said to the older house-elf as he put Oliver’s morning cup of tea in front of him.

“Kipper lives to serve the Masters and Mistress,” the house-elf replied, bowing with his ears flopping forward and he disappeared from view.

Oliver picked up his tea and took a swig, being reminded of the fact that that was the first morning cup of tea he’d had in weeks that hadn’t been made by Hermione. The day before he’d been woken by the sound of the floo and after exiting his bedroom, he’d made his way to the kitchen to find a cup of tea and a plate of chocolate chip pancakes, bacon and eggs waiting for him, along with a rather large and perfectly wrapped present.

He hadn’t expected Hermione to get him anything for Christmas, so her doing so had meant more to him than he’d realised, and he only hoped the gesture was mutual, seeing as he’d gotten her a gift, too, but he’d hidden his with the rest of the presents beneath the Christmas tree, knowing Hermione would take them all as they were for her family and friends.

It was strange to him, sitting at the table with his parents and eating breakfast rather than with Hermione, conversing with her as Merlin laid himself at their feet beneath the kitchen table. He couldn’t believe how much he actually missed it, missed her, it had only been a day!

He shook his head and his eyes moved to look out of the large floor to ceiling windows of the dining room of his parent’s home, the place he’d grown up. It was a strange building, being something of a combination between a traditional and modern ranch house that was surrounded by plentiful fields and meadows and space to fly and play Quidditch. He knew his parent’s choice of housing would be seen as a little odd, giving they were fairly wealthy within the Pureblood community and most chose to live in manor houses and the like, but his parents had never cared what others thought of them and instead bought the property and its land not long after they married twenty-five years ago.

As he watched the snow lightly fall to the already snow-covered ground, he caught sight of his father reaching over for his mother’s hand which he brought to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it, before going back to reading the newspaper and his mother went back to sipping at her tea.

A smile pulled at his mouth at the display. His parents had never been shy about showcasing their love for one another and certainly not in front of him, which made him luckier than most. He’d heard horror stories about other Pureblood families and their loveless marriages, of the things the children of those families had to witness and he was thankful he’d been spared that, but his experiences could’ve very well been different if it weren’t for his parents.

He knew the story of their pasts, they’d told him plenty enough times that it was engraved in his brain. Both his parents being Pureblood and arranged marriages being common within the community, they’d both been set to marry from the ages of eleven. But when they’d started Hogwarts, his father had been a Gryffindor and his mother a Hufflepuff, which certainly explained her kindness and optimistic outlook on life.

They’d met in the library a few days after the start of term and struck up a quick friendship, his father being very protective of his mother when she was bullied by Slytherins. They’d always been close, but when his father asked his mother to the Halloween Ball their fifth year, that was the kick start of their relationship. They fell in love and once they graduated three years later, they’d gotten engaged and married not even a month later. Luckily they had enough money between them to buy a property and start a life together. Neither of their parents had been happy about them shaming their families by breaking their marriage contracts and they’d been disowned. During the time of the first war, his grandparents had died and with his parents having no siblings, Gringotts had no option but to award the wealth of Houses Wood and Taylorson to them. They’d sold all the properties wanting no reminder of their parents and lived their lives with happiness, love and peace.

Turning his attention to his plate of sausages, eggs and black pudding, he saw his mother smiling loving at her father for no other reason than she could do so. Knowing what he did about his parents and having grown up witnessing their marriage, he only wished that he could have the same. If his marriage was filled with even half the amount of the love and happiness his parents was, then he knew he’d be one of the luckiest wizards alive. Watching as his father absentmindedly ran his thumb over his mother’s knuckles and she watched him lovingly, an image of Hermione flashed through his mind.

He shook his head and frowned slightly. No, that didn’t happen, he had a handle on the situation. He definitely did!

He quickly moved to make a start on eating his breakfast and finished not long later, rolling his eyes when more sausages and black pudding made an appearance on his plate. His mother chuckled at him.

“Ye know hoo much Jax loves tae feed ye,”

“A’ve been gone fer years now, Ma,” Oliver replied.

“Exactly, so he’s only gunna make up fer it when yer here,” she said.

His father let out an amused snort, pulling their attention. “So, Oliver, are ye ready fer the upcomin’ match?” He asked.

“Tae be honest, a don’ think we would be even if we had more time tae prepare an’ train, but a have tae admit, we’re gettin’ a lot better now tha’ the team’s starting tae pull tagether.”

“An’ a hear yer’ve got a new healer at the stadium, a Miss. Hermione Granger.”

Oliver narrowed his eyes at the way his parents shared a slight smile. He knew his mother would’ve told his father about Hermione, they didn’t keep secrets from each other, which only meant he now had to deal with them _both_.

“Aye, what af it?” Oliver spoke.

“A hear she’s one af the best,” his father shrugged his shoulders.

“She is, anno the team’s health is in good hands. She’s already proven herself with catchin’ the problem with Wilk’s eyesight an’ we’re all safer fer it,” Oliver agreed, and thankfully his father changed the subject.

As he reached over to fill his mug up with more tea, he startled slightly when Bobby appeared beside him.

“Master Oliver, Master Oliver! Hurries!” Bobby cried, looking distraught with tears welling in his eyes, shuffling on his feet and his hands tugging at his pillowcase.

“Bobby?” Oliver questioned, being completely surprised by Bobby’s appearance and current behaviour. He’d never seen the little elf so out of sorts.

“Master Oliver, come quick, it’s the Miss!”

Something inside of Oliver snapped and not caring for his parents’ reactions or confusion, he stood from his chair so fast it toppled over to the ground.

“Take mae tae her,” Oliver ordered, and Bobby’s hand wrapped around his wrist without hesitation.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Oliver landed in the living room of the manor and he didn’t have to ask where Hermione was for Bobby soon turned and hurried down the corridor. Oliver was quick on his heels and Bobby came to a stop outside of Hermione’s bedroom door.

“The Miss be’s in there,” Bobby said, sounding as though he were trying to keep himself from crying and he reached up to tug his ears flat against his head when Oliver pushed the door open and Hermione’s cries filled his ears.

Knowing where she was hidden, he headed straight for her walk-in wardrobe and sure enough, he found her as he had before, curled up in a ball in the corner of the room, making herself as small as possible. Merlin was laid in front of her, whimpers leaving him and he looked up to Oliver when he entered, a whine falling from the large dog.

“Damsel,” Oliver spoke softly, not wanting to frighten her and he slowly approached her, crouching down beside her. “Damsel, what happened?”

Slowly she lifted her buried head from her knees and her eyes were unfocused, dazed. His heart broke at the sight of her, her eyes red and swollen as tears trailed down her cheeks and her face had reddened. She sounded as though she were struggling to breathe and he could visibly see her shaking.

Reaching up, he gently took her face in his hands and at his touch she seemed to recognise him, the dazed look leaving her eyes as she blinked several times and her eyes roved his face, locking onto his gaze.

“Oliver?” She choked out, her voice sounding raspy and sore.

“Am here, Damsel,” he said softly.

Her sobs grew louder as she unfolded her body and threw her arms around his neck, hugging herself to him tightly as she cried into his t-shirt. Oliver’s arms came up to wrap around her and he held her to him gently, shifting so he sat on the ground and his back was propped up against the wall.

“What happened?” He asked.

She shook her head, being unable to answer him and not helping to ease him in the slightest. His eyes caught the slightly crumpled letter on the ground and he was able to reach out and pick it up.

Anger and worry and fear shot through him, understanding instantly hitting him as he read over the words on the parchment. Upon spotting the _gift_ she’d been sent, he felt his stomach twist and turn, making him feel sick. They really were sick bastards!

Spelled to stick against the parchment until it was pulled off, was a ring. And it wasn’t just any ring; the white gold band was accompanied by a rather large diamond and cushioned by two slightly smaller emeralds. The intention of the ring was clear, an engagement ring.

“Bobby!” Oliver called, barely containing his own emotions but he had to remain calm for Hermione; the last thing she needed was to see him lose his temper and he didn’t wish to frighten her anymore than she already was. “Get Kingsley Shacklebolt now, a don’ care what he’s doin’, jus’ get him.”

Crunching the letter in his hand, he rubbed his other hand over Hermione’s back comfortingly, whispering into her ear softly.

“Yer safe here, a won’t let them hurt ye,”

It was only a few moments later when Kingsley Shacklebolt and Head Auror Jolkins made an appearance, neither of them dressed in their regular robes and looking as though they hadn’t been awake long themselves.

“What happened?” The Minister spoke instantly, his eyes flittering to Hermione and then up to him.

Oliver gritted his teeth and held out the letter, The Minister moving closer to take it from him. His eyes hardened and he gripped the letter tightly before handing it to Jolkins, his reaction being similar.

“Am not sure what happened. Bobby came tae me parents tae get mae, a found her like this,” Oliver said. Bobby appeared in the room and handed Oliver the Calming Draught that he’d requested. “Damsel, we need tae know what happened, can ye drink this fer mae?” He asked softly.

It took a few moments to coax her head from being buried against his chest and she drank down the potion, her breathing and sobs calming, but tears still fell.

“He...He was at my parents' house... He knew what I was wearing. I thought I saw someone out my window watching me,” she said quietly.

“How long ago, Hermione?” Kingsley asked gently, his tone soft and calming and watching the way she buried her face back against Oliver’s chest.

“Less than an hour,” she whispered.

“Go now!” Kingsley ordered, but Jolkins had already left the room, all but running to the apparition point.

“Yer safe here, a won’ let anyone hurt ye,” Oliver muttered softly, absentmindedly pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“I remember something,” her voice broke and she started hyperventilating. He pulled back from her and took her face in his hands.

“Damsel, breathe with mae,” he instructed and he deliberately slowed his own breathing, a smile appearing when she mimicked his breathing and it helped to calm her. “Ye know yer safe here, can ye tell mae what ye remember?” He asked.

Her eyes closed tightly and Oliver wiped away her falling tears with his thumbs.

“Not really, it’s just flashes of images, nothing seems to fit together. But, I think one had copper coloured hair and the other two were blonde, one a shade darker than the other.”

Oliver looked over to Kingsley, only just remembering that he was still there and he had a notebook in his hand and was writing down everything she said. Kingsley looked to Oliver and gestured to Hermione with a tilt of his head. They knew from the last time that she’d only respond to Oliver, so it was down to him to get what he could out of her.

“Alright, yer doin’ really well, is there anything else?”

“I... I remember one of them had an accent, Yorkshire I think, and one of them, his nose... I think it’s been broken before, at least twice. I recognise the damage to the bone structure.”

“Anything else?”

She shook her head. “They just kept touching me and wouldn’t stop,” she cried, bringing her hands up to grip at her hair. Oliver did his best to get her to release her grip lest she hurt herself, but she wouldn’t let go and he worried she’d pull clumps of hair out if she wasn’t careful.

“They kept touching me and wouldn’t stop... I tried to stop them... I tried to fight... but I didn’t have the chance to get to my wand...”

He instantly recognised the way her body shook, her face suddenly went pale and she brought her hands up to clamp over her mouth and quicker than he had in his life, he pulled his wand and was able to conjure a bucket, just in time as Hermione doubled over and threw up.

He was quick to pull her hair back from her face and rub comforting circles on her back as he made shushing sounds. A few minutes later after she’d emptied the contents of her stomach, she leaned back against Oliver and he held her to him gently.

Looking up he caught the gaze of Kingsley, seeing the sad look on his face and their attention was pulled when Jolkins entered the room, slightly out of breath and a red tint to his cheeks.

“There was definitely someone there, but they’d been gone at least half an hour,” he spoke. “But I was able to pick up on an apparition signature, it may take a few days, but we should be able to find him.”

Kingsley looked both angry and hopeful and he nodded to Jolkins, before turning to Hermione.

“Give us a few days, Hermione, and hopefully we’ll have at least one of the bastards and they might lead us to the others. In the meantime, don’t leave the manor. You’re safe here.” He didn’t wait for a response as both he and Jolkins left the room with the intention of starting the tracking process.

“Ye did so well, am proud af ye,” Oliver muttered softly, placing yet another kiss to her forehead.

Hermione seemed to relax at the gesture, melting against him and turning her head to bury her face against his chest.

“They wouldn’t stop...” She whispered. “They wouldn’t leave me alone...They wouldn’t stop touching me, grabbing at me...”

Seeing her hands coming up to her mouth, he gathered her hair back from her face just before she leaned over and threw up in the bucket once more. Seeing as she no longer had any food left in her stomach, it was all water and acid until she was dry heaving. Once she’d finished he vanished the bucket with a flick of his wand and received a grateful look when he cast a Cleansing Charm over her.

“For a few moments, I could feel them touching me, until unconsciousness took me over. I don’t remember anything after that.”

“They’ll get them, they made the mistake we were hopin’ they would. They left a trace behind, an’ now we have a better description af their appearances, tae.”

“I was so scared, so helpless. I don’t know why they did this to me. Why did they have to hurt me like this?”

“A honestly don’ know, Damsel, but what a do know is tha’ now yer safe from them. A made a promise tae protect ye an’ a intend tae keep tha’ promise. A will protect ye,”

“I know,” she whispered in reply, snuggling into him further.

Oliver caught sight of Merlin lifting his head from his paws and looking towards the door with what he could only describe as a cautious narrowing of the eyes. He allowed his own eyes to follow and seeing what he did had his eyes widening, his mouth dropping open and his breath hitching slightly before he shook his head and narrowed his eyes.

Looking down to Hermione, she was still snuggled up against him and looking as though she were going to fall asleep. Removing his arms from around her, he made to pull back.

“Don’t leave me, please don’t leave me,” she pleaded, gripping onto his shirt and a slight tone of hysteric entered her voice.

“Am not gunna leave ye,” he said gently. “Am jus’ gunna use the bathroom an’ then get ye a glass af water, a’ll be back in a few minutes, okay? If ye need mae ye jus’ have tae give mae a shout an’ a’ll come straight back.”

She lifted her head from his chest, her chocolate brown eyes wide and fearful. “You promise?”

“A promise,” he nodded, giving her a gentle smile.

Taking a deep breath she released her grip on his t-shirt and pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around her knees and making herself small once more. Looking at her sadly, he stood and quickly left out the walk-in wardrobe, beckoning for the intruders to follow after him and to be quiet in doing so.

They remained silent until they reached the kitchen and Oliver spun around so fast he made himself dizzy.

“What are ye doin’ here?” He demanded, an angry look crossing his face.

Both his mother and father startled at the sight, having never seen him so angry before, especially with them. He’d always been respectful.

“We jus’ wanted tae...”

“What? Stick yer nose where it doesn’t belong,” Oliver snarked and his father narrowed his eyes in warning, but Oliver refused to back down. “Ye had naw right tae come here, naw right tae intrude on mae privacy, naw right tae see what ye did.”

“Oliver,” his mother said softly, not taking offence to his harsh tone of voice or his words.

She’d understood from the moment she’d seen him with Hermione Granger that he cared for her, and so him being protective of her was only natural. What she’d heard and witnessed, while it wasn’t enough to know what was happening, it was enough to understand that it was something awful, something traumatising and dangerous, and Oliver was protecting Hermione Granger. Whatever was happening, it had brought them together and created a bond between them, a very strong bond.

“Hoo much did ye see, hear?” He questioned.

“We arrived as The Minster was leaving,” his mother answered softly. “What’s happening?”

“Tha’s none af yer business, Ma,” he replied, moving over to the sink and grabbing a glass from the cupboard, filling it with water. “A told ye befere, a made a promise tae her an’ am gunna keep it.”

“So we heard,” his father spoke, his eyes slightly narrowed still. “An’ jus’ what are ye protecting her from?”

“Tha’s none af yer business,” Oliver repeated.

“Oliver, a remember, when we met at the hospital she said ye saved her, saved her from what?” His mother asked.

“A cannae tell ye,” he answered, shutting off the tap and going over to the cupboard to retrieve one of Hermione’s favourite muggle chocolate bars.

“Why is she here?” His father asked.

Oliver took a deep, calming breath. “She lives here with mae,” he answered, seeing their eyes widening and their mouth dropping open. He knew that news would receive that reaction. “She had tae move oot af her flat an’ givin’ the space an’ security, a asked her tae stay here. This is the only place she feels safe which is why she’s here an’ not with her parents, after the incident tha’s jus’ happened, it was her instinct to return here. Don’ mention tae anyone she’s here, only meself, The Minister and the Head Auror know she’s here. An’ in the future, a’d appreciate it if ye were tae let mae know yer comin’ over.”

“Oliver!” Hermione’s voice carried through the manor and into the kitchen, her voice sounding timid and frightened.

“Be right there, Damsel!” He raised his voice so she would hear and seeing his parents raising eyebrows at his name for her. “A better get back tae her befere she has another panic attack,” he said, stepping around his parents to leave the kitchen.

“Ye care aboot her, don’ ye?” His father spoke.

Oliver stopped in his steps and turned to look over his shoulder at his parents, seeing his mother rolling her eyes at his father.

“A care aboot her,” Oliver admitted aloud, his mother looking surprised and a small smile pulled at her mouth.

“Yer finally admitting it?” She questioned.

Oliver sighed. “A admit a care aboot her, more than a probably should. A’ve never been in love so a don’ know the feeling, but a do know she’s important tae mae an’ a would do anything tae keep her safe.”

“What did ye come tae this realisation?”

“Christmas Eve,” he shrugged his shoulders. “An’ it’s all thanks tae Magical Mistletoe,” he spoke with a slight smile pulling at his mouth.

“Oliver!” Hermione called, her voice a little more hysterical than the last time.

“Coming, Damsel,” he called, turning and leaving his gaping parents to find their own way to the floo.

As he stepped into Hermione’s room and into the walk-in wardrobe, he found her in the exact position he left her. A look of relief crossed her face when she saw him and he moved to sit beside her, handing her the glass of water and the chocolate bar.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. They fell silent for several minutes before she spoke up again. “I want to take a bath,” she said softly, bringing her hands up to rub over her arms. “I feel dirty, disgusting.”

Oliver nodded and stood from the ground, holding his hand out to her and helping her to her feet. She gripped his hand tightly and followed him into the bathroom, moving to stand beside the sink as he busied himself with filling the bathtub with water and bubble bath and retrieving a towel, placing it on the ground beside the bathtub.

“If ye need anything, jus’ give mae a shout,” Oliver said, giving her a comforting smile and leaving for the door.

Hermione’s hand shot out and gripped at his hand, and he turned to look at her questioningly.

“Will you stay?” She asked quietly, not looking at him but the floor. His eyebrows rose high. “Please, I don’t want to be alone?”

He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he agreed, stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door behind him, and not long later he heard her call for him.

Stepping back into the bathroom he saw her in the bathtub, the water and bubbles covering her entire body up to her chin and he moved to perch himself on the countertop, placing his wand beside him and scrubbing his hands against the legs of his jeans while keeping his gaze as far away from Hermione as possible, not wanting her to think he was being a pervert.

For several long minutes, the only noise in the room was that of their breathing and the water rippling and sloshing each time Hermione moved. His eyes moved to the bathtub and he held his breath as Hermione disappeared under the water, he waited for her to come back up for air, and he waited and waited until he started to worry.

He was just about to make a grab for her when she re-emerged, water sloshing everywhere and she gasped for breath while pushing her hair out of her face. She leaned back against the tub and looked up at the ceiling.

“Did you like your gift?” Hermione asked him softly, her voice being loud in the silent room.

“Aye, a loved it, a’ll be sure tae put them tae use,” he spoke, a smile pulling at his mouth as he thought about her gift to him, which was still at his parent’s house.

Where the team had given him Quidditch related items and his parents clothing and the like, Hermione had gotten him something only she would think of. She’d not only gotten him several muggle cookbooks, allowing him to widen his knowledge of muggle foods and try new recipes, but she’d also bought him muggle kitchen appliances in the form of a toaster and a microwave. When they’d been shopping for the children at the orphanage, he’d remarked that he found muggle appliances and technology fascinating, and just to prove that she knew him so well and listened to everything he’d said, she’d bought him two. He wasn’t sure how they would work given the manor and the magic that surrounded it, but he was sure that since Hermione had bought them herself, she must’ve known a way around it.

She turned her head and gave him her first smile of the day, granted, it looked more like a grimace but he’d take it given the morning she’d had.

“Ye know ye dinnae have tae get mae anything?”

“I know, I wanted to, I wanted to say thank you and show my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me. I know I’m a pain in the arse...”

“Yer not a pain in the arse,” he cut her off, his voice soft and filled with honesty. “A mean, yer bossy an’ terrifyin’...” She scowled at him and he chuckled. “Did ye like yer gift?”

An actual smile pulled at her mouth. “Yes, they were wonderful, thank you,” she answered honestly, thinking of her opening her gifts the previous morning and finding one from Oliver. He’d gotten her a new knitted cardigan seeing as he knew she loved them so much and she hated being cold, a few textbooks on magical illnesses that she didn’t actually already have, and her favourite, _Quidditch 101 for Dummies_. It had definitely pulled a smile from her, so much so that her parents had eyed her curiously.

“Ye know, Damsel,” Oliver spoke, and she turned to look at him, “Ye dinnae have tae go tae all this trouble jus’ tae get oot af yer family reunion.”

Hermione blinked at his word before she felt a bubble of amusement fill her and laughter soon peeled from her. Oliver smiled to himself, feeling quite proud that he’d been able to cheer her up after the morning she’d had.

“But Oliver, you don’t understand! They’re awful, I had to do something and this is the only escape plan I could come up with,” she said, playing along.

“It’s terrible, hoo’d ye win the war again?”

She stuck her tongue out at him and he chuckled. Seeing her reaching over the bathtub for her towel, he closed his eyes knowing she was about to get out and he didn’t open them until she spoke.

Looking at her, he saw she’d already dried her hair and she’d dressed in an oversize t-shirt and a pair of leggings. She left the bathroom and he followed after her, watching as she climbed onto the bed and pulled a pillow over to her stomach, wrapping herself around it, and Merlin made a noise at being jostled in sleep at the end of the bed. Hermione looked to him and he didn’t need her to voice her wish, he already knew. Moving over to the bed, he climbed on behind Hermione and she reached out, gripped his hand and tugged at him, making it so he was spooning her.

They didn’t speak; they didn’t move from their positions or from the bed for several hours, they just laid in silence until they fell asleep, and this time, Oliver was fully aware he was wrapped around her as the land of dreams called to him. 


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 9

**Wood Manor – Saturday 26th December 1998**

When Oliver woke he was alone, there was a slight chill in the room and the sky outside had grown dark, the only source of light the being moon streaming through the window and into the room.

Blinking until his eyes came into focus, he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face, stifling a yawn. He wasn’t sure of the time but given by the appearance of the moon, he knew that not only had he slept through lunch, but dinner, too, which made sense as his stomach gave a sudden rumble. He couldn’t believe he’d slept so long, especially when he hadn’t even felt tired.

Looking around, he saw Merlin still curled up comfortably on the end of the bed and he couldn’t see or hear Hermione in the room. Frowning to himself, he climbed off the bed and went in search of her, first checking the living room and the kitchen before defaulting to the library. Surprisingly, she wasn’t there and so he checked the remainder of the rooms until he came to the final room of his search.

Pushing open the door he stepped inside, his eyes adjusting in the darkness of the room and he could just make out a figure sitting on the bench, staring down at the keys of the grand piano.

“Damsel?” Oliver’s voice was soft but still loud in the silence of the room.

She didn’t respond, she didn’t move, she made no sign of even acknowledging his presence and feeling worry fill him, he walked further into the room and stopped beside the piano. Pulling his wand from his pocket, he shot a soft ball of light into the air and turned to look at Hermione. He watched her carefully; her body was straight with perfect posture, her hands resting gently on her thighs and her head tilted as she stared down at the keys of the piano. He counted that she only blinked every five seconds and it was too slow to even be considered blinking.

“Damsel?” Oliver tried once more. “Hoo long have ye been here?”

Much to his relief, she responded but it was so faint even in the silence of the room he barely heard her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered. “It was still light out,”

Oliver frowned; given the darkness of the sky and the moon, that meant it had at least been a few hours, possibly even more.

“What are ye doin’ in here?”

“I just wanted to...”

He watched the way her hands lifted from her thighs and hovered over the keys, her fingers twitching as if they ached to play.

“Ye can touch it,” he told her gently.

“No, I’m okay,” she said, her hands moving away from the piano and she clasped them together tightly, resting them in her lap.

“Are ye hungry? We slept right through lunch an’ dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Oliver.”

“Sorry, what fer?” He asked confused.

For the first time that night, she turned to look at him and Oliver didn’t like what he saw. There was something different about her expression that made him feel angry and confused; she didn’t like look herself. She looked like a broken shell. Her face was ashen; her usually wild hair flat; her expressive eyes emotionless and dazed.

“For bringing you into this, for putting all this pressure on you, for taking over your life with my problems. You didn’t deserve to have this happen to you and I’m truly sorry it did.”

“Hey,” Oliver said softly, “None af this is yer fault, ye hear mae? None af it! Ye havnae put mae under any pressure, ye havnae taken over me life an’ ye dinnae bring mae intae this. A’m the one tha’ found ye an’ a made the decision tae bring ye here rather than tae take ye tae the hospital. Am the one tha’ insisted tha’ ye stay here, where yer safe. A don’ feel any pressure, anything a do fer ye an’ every decision a make is me own, an’ a’ve made them withoot any third party influence. Yer’ve naw reason tae apologise.”

“But you should be with your family, Oliver. It’s Christmas,”

“A’ve seen me parents an’ a’ve spent time with them, but sometimes they can be a bit tae much. A’d much rather be here with ye, knowing that yer safe. Am a big wizard an’ a can make me own decisions in life. Yer a brilliant witch, Damsel, an’ yer one af the kindest, most genuine people a’ve ever met. Yer the one tha’ dinnae deserve any af this, but unfortunately it happened an’ there’s nothing we can do aboot it except not give in an’ let them win. Yer strong, anno ye are. Don’ let them win, don’ give them the satisfaction af turning ye intae somethin’ yer not.”

She closed her eyes and when they opened again, he saw a spark that wasn’t there before. It wasn’t quite what it usually was, but it was certainly a step in the right direction.

“It’s alright tae cry, Damsel. Yer’ve had somethin’ truly awful happen tae ye an’ crying is a way af dealing, af getting oot all the pent up emotions yer’ve been holding back,” he told her gently.

“If I allow myself to do that, I won’t stop,” she whispered, her eyes tearing up.

Oliver held his hand out and she barely spared it a glance before placing her own hand in his. Giving her hand a gently squeeze, he tugged her up from the bench and led her out the room, through the manor, back up the grand staircase and into the living room. As he stepped into the room he lit the fireplace with a flick of his wand and pulled Hermione over to the couches. She sat down beside him, looking to him in confusion before he summoned a large blanket and draped it over the both of their laps.

He sat back against the couch and held his arm out in invitation and Hermione went into him willingly, moving closer and snuggling herself against his side and he wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Let it oot, Damsel,” he encouraged softly. “A promise, a won’t think any differently af ye. Tae mae ye will always be a strong, independent an’ terrifyingly smart witch. Yer’ll never face judgement from mae.”

She gave a sniffle and she turned her head to bury her face against his chest, hiding herself from him.

“It’s not a weakness tae cry in front af someone. It may make ye feel vulnerable, but it makes ye strong. It means yer strong enough tae allow someone tae see ye in tha’ moment. An’ strong is what ye are.”

The damn burst and Hermione broke out into heart-wrenching sobs, her hands gripping at his t-shirt and her tears soaking through the fabric. Oliver held her against him, his hand rubbing over her arm comfortingly and his cheek pressed against the top of her head as he remained silent. He hated seeing her so distraught but he knew she needed to get it all out of her system, bottling it all up wasn’t good for anyone, let alone her. A witch as powerful as Hermione bottling up her emotions could be dangerous to anyone in her vicinity if her magic started acting out and she lost control.

He ignored the hunger pains in his stomach and focused his attention on her, and half an hour later, her sobs died down into quiet sniffles which soon stopped entirely and the room fell into silence.

“Better?” He asked softly.

“A little,” she admitted, her voice sounding hoarse.

“Tha’s better than nothin’,” he replied. “Now, a don’ know aboo ye, but am starving. A don’ care what time it is, but am in need af food. Hoo aboot ye?”

“I could eat,” she muttered, still keeping her head buried against his chest so he couldn’t see the state of her face after all the crying.

“What do ye fancy? Anything ye want.”

“Anything?” She asked quietly and he felt the way her mouth twitched into the smallest of smiles and he knew exactly what her answer would be.

“Anything,” he confirmed.

“Chicken pie,” she answered.

His mouth pulled into a smile, he’d been right. He knew her better than he realised.

“One chicken pie, comin’ up,” he said.

She reluctantly pulled away from him and she kept her face hidden as he stood and left for the kitchen. With the help of a little magic, he had their food cooked and served in no time at all and he returned to the living room with two plates in his hands. Hermione quietly thanked him and they ate their food in silence, sitting side by side. Once they’d finished the dishes were sent to the sink to be washed later and they fell silent once more.

Oliver watched Hermione carefully, seeing that the redness of her face and eyes had gone and the puffiness of her eyes was no longer noticeable. She sat beside him, fiddling with her fingers as she stared down at them, watching the movements intensely.

“I haven’t had the chance to ask, how’s your mother?” Hermione spoke quietly.

A smile pulled at Oliver’s mouth, glad to see that she was up to talking. “A lot better with the new potion regime yer’ve given her,” he replied. “It took her a while tae get over the effects af the chemotherapy but she woke the next day feelin’ better.”

“And her treatment? What’s the plan?”

“Chemotherapy twice a week every fortnight fer a total af six weeks, making it six treatments. After Dr. Clay wants tae review her case befere making a decision aboot surgery. We’re hoping the magical treatments will help tae speed up her recovery an’ strengthen her immune system. If all goes tae plan, hopefully Ma will be fine.”

“I’m sure she will be, Oliver,” she said. “From my first impression of her, she’s got a will of iron and I don’t doubt she won’t let this beat her. Her potion regime will have to be tweaked a little as each week goes by, but I know Thomas will take care of it and ensure she’s well taken care of.”

“Between ye both me Ma’s never had such good health care,” he replied. “Me Da thinks very highly af ye as does me Ma, they were talking aboot ye over breakfast an’ remarking on hoo much better the care af the team would be,” he said and much to his surprise a red tinge filled her cheeks.

“When’s her next treatment?”

“Wednesday, me Da’ goin’ with her this time,” he answered. “An’ a have tae tell ye somethin’.”

“Alright,” she frowned slightly.

“Me parents know yer here.”

Her entire body froze and her breathing stopped so he reached out and wrapped his hand around hers, the contact helping to calm her slightly.

“A dinnae break yer trust, they were there when Bobby came tae get mae, a dinnae know they followed mae until after. All they know is yer here fer yer safety, nothing else. They’re not gunna tell anyone yer here an’ a’ve asked them tae give notice befere they visit.”

“Okay,” she breathed out slowly.

“Yer safe here, Damsel.”

“I know; it’s the only place I’ve ever felt safe.”

~000~000~000~

**Wood Manor – Tuesday 29th December 1998**

Several days past since the incident and Oliver had been watching Hermione carefully, but he was sure to give her space to allow her to come to terms with all that had happened recently. Before it was as if she’d blocked it all out, she’d refused to deal with it and instead pretended as if it had never happened, but now he’d often find her sat in the library or the grand piano room, staring off into space with a dazed look in her eyes.

Now she was quieter than usual and she only tended to speak unless he asked her a question first. He suspected the only reason she ate was that he made all their meals and sat with her, watching every bite she took or every sip of water she drank down. Now, whenever he walked past her room he could hear her cries and Merlin’s whimpers. He hated seeing her so upset but he knew he had to let her work it all out for herself. She needed to fully process what had happened in order for her to overcome it.

Oliver had barely been up long himself when he exited his room and headed for the kitchen with the intent of making breakfast, and as he walked past Hermione’s room he heard silence. He’d only just stepped into the living room when Bobby appeared before him, bowing and fiddling with the edge of his pillowcase.

“Master Oliver, Mr. Shacklebolt and Jolkins bes here,” he squeaked out.

Oliver felt his stomach drop and he breathed deeply. “Show them in, please, Bobby,” Oliver replied.

Bobby nodded and disappeared from the room and Oliver turned on his heel and headed back to Hermione’s room, where he knocked on the door.

“Damsel,” he said softly, “The Minister an’ Jolkins are here,” he informed her. “We’ll wait fer ye in the kitchen.”

Leaving back to the kitchen he busied himself with making a cup of tea for himself and Hermione, and she made an appearance not long after. He gave her a gentle smile, seeing that she’d obviously been awake longer than he’d thought as she already looked as though she’d taken a shower, with her now damp hair being pulled up on top of her head, and she wore a grey jumper dress, black leggings and a pair of slippers on her feet.

“Bobby’s jus’ letting them in now,” he said, holding out her new favourite mug in offering.

She took it from him and sipped at the hot liquid, leaning against the breakfast bar and her eyes watching the doorway expectantly.

“Good morning,” The Minister greeted them both as he stepped into the kitchen and both he and Jolkins declined the offer of tea, wanting to get straight to business.

“Let’s sit down,” Oliver suggested, moving over to the kitchen table.

He held the chair out for Hermione and she slid onto the seat and he moved to sit beside her whilst the others took seats opposite. Before words were exchanged he felt Hermione’s hand move to hold his beneath the table and he gave it a gentle squeeze of comfort.

“We’ve got them, Hermione,” The Minister spoke softly.

Oliver wasn’t blind to the way Hermione’s features went blank before suddenly filling with more emotions than he could name. She slouched in her seat and moved to lean against his side and he raised his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

Jolkins removed a folder from beneath his robes, set it on the table and then removed three photographs from it, pushing them across the table to show them to both him and Hermione. Oliver blinked, his eyes slowly taking in the faces of the men thought to be responsible for attacking Hermione, and he admitted, she’d described them well considering she didn’t remember much about that night, considering she only had short flashes of memory to go on. And as his eyes looked over the photographs, he was aware that two of them -both the blondes- had their eyes closed and their skin tone didn’t look normal. Frowning, he looked to the others for answers.

“They’re both dead,” Jolkins informed them. He blinked in surprise and Hermione let out a shuddering breath. “You’re looking at Mark Farrow, Justin Beatie and Shaun Daniels,” he said, pointing to the each of the photographs in turn, making Shaun Daniels that one that was alive.

“What happened?” Hermione asked quietly.

“The DNA samples we had were a match to both Farrow and Beatie, they were the ones to attack you whilst Daniels helped to subdue you. The trace at your parent’s house led us straight to him and we caught him and took him in for questioning. We were able to get him to reveal the identities of the others involved but when we went to their homes they were found dead, and from what we can tell, they’ve been dead a few weeks.”

It was fair to say Oliver was surprised by the revelation and Hermione’s reaction was similar.

“Daniels denies any knowledge of their deaths but we ran a few tests on his wand and found he’d recently cast The Killing Curse twice. Not only will he be put on trial for sexual assault, but for murder and it’ll be a long time before he’s released from prison, _if,_ he’s released.”

Hermione caved in on herself, her arms coming up to wrap around her stomach protectively and she bowed her head.

“So these are her stalkers?” Oliver asked.

“We believe so,” the Minister answered. “Whilst we didn’t find any of the items taken from your previous flat after the break-in, Hermione, we did find in the home of Farrow photographs of you, both from newspaper articles and otherwise. It’s looking as though he’s the one that had an obsession with you, and the other two were his friends and were brought in to help him contain you. The piece of fabric Merlin grabbed during the break-in, we were unable to pull any DNA samples and although the fabric does seem to be of good quality, it’s far too common to trace back to a specific tailor or to see the records of anyone that may have bought such an item. Neither Farrow, Daniels or Beatie were the ones to conduct the break-in, and none of them has a background in Curse Breaking either. This means the one that did break-in to your flat was likely hired to do so.”

“But this doesn’t make any sense,” Oliver spoke up. “She received a letter a few days ago, hoo’s tha’ possible if Farrow’s been dead fer the last few weeks?”

“That had us puzzled, too,” Jolkins said. “We took handwriting samples from all three of their homes and none of them were a match to the letter you received. We checked the activity with Farrow’s account at Gringotts and large sums of money seemed to have been withdrawn every couple of weeks. We’ve been unable to trace where that money went, but we believe it was used to both pay the thief _and_ to pay someone else to write those letters, that way it could never be traced back to Farrow.”

“So now tha’ he’s dead, she’ll stop receiving letters?” Oliver said.

“Chances are she’ll stop receiving letters once the money’s ran out. If you do receive more, send them straight to me and we’ll see if we can trace it back to the one writing them.”

“Wait, so it’s all over?” Hermione whispered.

“It’s all over,” The Minster said with a soft smile. “You’ve got your life back. You no longer have to live in fear.”

Hermione broke down in tears and Oliver held her against him as she turned to bury her face in his chest, hiding from the view of the others.

“Thank ye,” Oliver said to them both, a weight being lifted off his shoulders now that he knew Hermione was safe.

They both nodded and looked relieved themselves. “We’ll leave you alone as we have a few loose ends to tie up, but if you need anything you know where to find us,” the Minister said, and with that, they both stood to leave, picked up the photographs and left out the kitchen.

“Damsel?” Oliver questioned gently.

“I can’t believe it’s over,” she said through her cries.

She pulled back from him, tears falling down her face but he noticed her eyes seemed brighter than they had recently, the spark he was used to seeing being present but not quite as what he remembered. He knew she just needed a little more time.

“It’s over,” he confirmed, reaching up to wipe away her tears with his thumbs and her eyes fluttered closed as she took a deep breath.

“Thank you,” she breathed out. “I honestly don’t know what I would do without you. You’ve been the one thing that’s kept me grounded through this whole ordeal.”

“Ye don’ have tae thank mae.”

“I do,” she disagreed. “And I’m going to start with chocolate chip pancakes.”

She pulled back from him and stood from her chair, putting her attention on preparing breakfast. When it was all cooked and served they ate in silence until the dishes were sent to the sink to be washed.

“I should probably start looking for a new flat now this is all over,” she said, reaching up and retrieving a glass from the cupboard so she could pour herself some pumpkin juice.

Oliver found himself frowning. “Yer staying,”

“Excuse me?” She questioned with a raised eyebrow, not at his words but at the tone at which he’d spoken them in. It had almost sounded like an order.

“Yer not moving oot af the manor, yer staying.”

“But...”

“Yer staying,” he repeated, his gaze being intense and daring her to argue with him.

She looked down at the counter and she felt the heat that flooded her cheeks as she nibbled at her lip. “I’m staying,” she muttered quietly.

“Glad we’re on the same page,” he replied. “So, what are we doin’ taday?”

A smile pulled at her mouth. “Meet me in the living room, and bring plenty of snacks and beverages,” she said before she darted out of the kitchen faster than he’d ever seen her move.

Shaking his head and being pleased that she’d been able to offer him a smile, he did as asked, gathering snacks and beverages before taking a seat in the living room.

“Merlin, watch it!” He heard Hermione scold and he chuckled, knowing that the large dog had likely nearly tripped her over. Again.

The large dog bounded into the room, jumped up onto the couch with a bone in his mouth and he made himself comfortable on the cushions beside him. When Hermione appeared in his line of sight he felt a smile pull at his mouth when he saw the evidence of what she’d been up to.

“Oliver Wood, I, Hermione Granger, reigning champion and Queen of board games, challenge you to a rematch,” she said formally, her arms laden with board games piled so high she could barely see where she was walking. She reached the table and placed them down before turning to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “Do you accept the challenge?”

His mouth pulled into a smirk. If it was anything like last time he knew this could last a few days, probably even longer now that he knew the rules and strategies to help him to win. It was a good job he still had a few days of the holidays left before being expected to return to training, and it was a good thing he had no plans, knowing he was going to be far too busy in the coming days.

“A accept, let the war begin.”

A bright smile pulled at Hermione’s mouth, her eyes sparkled beautifully and a laugh left her as she sat herself down on the ground and chose the first game to play, snakes and ladders.

“Mr. Wood, I do hope you know what you’re getting yourself into,” she smirked. “Let the war commence.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

**Puddlemere United Stadium – Wednesday 13th January 1999**

Oliver watched Hermione silently as she stood by the door, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed over her chest and her eyes scanning the occupants of the room. Really, he should’ve been listening to Coach Burton give his ‘speech’ which actually contained more shouting and pacing than it did encouragement and excitement, but Oliver couldn’t blame the man, after all, today they were playing the first match to happen in nearly two years. It may have just been a practice match, but the outcome of it would affect the betting standards and people’s expectations of them when the League Cup officially began in July, meaning they only had six and a half months to get themselves ready.

In the two weeks that they’d learned of Hermione’s attackers and stalker having been caught and her now being safe, he’d been sure to keep an eye on her, but since that very day and each day that went by since, he’d noticed a change in her.

She no longer had to live her life in fear and that realisation showed within her. They hadn’t left the manor for the next few days, and the first time they did was when they were both due back at the stadium, Oliver to return to his training schedule and Hermione to continue with her healer’s duties. Despite her only being expected to work three full days or to come to the stadium when needed, she seemed to spend most of her time there but he knew it wasn’t out of fear of being on her own, it was because she liked being there and she got on with the team fairly well, them all respecting her and liking to wind her up until she got her own back and threatened to put them on a no-fly ban despite there being nothing wrong with them.

Sometimes he knew she left the stadium to see to her other patients or to go home and collect some books to keep her busy if she was bored and had no paperwork to do, but she always came back until the end of the day.

And he knew she’d more than made herself comfortable at the stadium. He’d broken his fingers when trying to stop the quaffle from passing through the hoops and had to make a visit to Hermione as a result. The moment he’d stepped into the treatment bays he’d noticed the difference with the decor, it no longer being a dreary, dirty white colour but a nice and calming blue. He noticed the organisation and the cleanliness that hadn’t been present before, and when he’d stepped into her office to fill out some paperwork, it had screamed ‘this is Hermione.’

Her office had been decorated in chocolate brown and white, with a large desk and a comfortable looking chair sat in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. Bookcases covered the back wall and were filled with medical textbooks, both muggle and magical, and there’d been a white rug in front of it with a comfortable lounge chair. Photos had lined the walls and there had been a large dog bed in the corner of the room where he knew Merlin slept most of the day. It hadn’t taken much to convince Coach Burton to allow her to bring Merlin to work with her, especially since there was no policy against animals being on the premises and both he and the team had no objections. They’d come to think of the large dog as their mascot and if he wasn’t with Hermione in her office, he was in the Coach’s box.

Once they’d returned to work, Hermione had started venturing out into public more often. He’d accompanied her to Diagon Alley the first couple of times and the third time he had to collect her as she’d struggled with being by herself, but from then onwards she’d been fine and he was both impressed and proud with the progress she’d made in the last two weeks.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen or heard her crying, he no longer found her in the library or grand piano room in the middle of the night; he no longer caught her gazing off into space or just sitting in silence. She smiled and laughed more, the spark within her seemed to have returned and she was as fiery and fierce as he remembered her being in Hogwarts. He was sure that what she did remember still haunted her during her dreams, but she never let on and she didn’t seem to be letting it get to her. She was moving on and putting it behind her and he was impressed that she was able to do it so soon.

“Wood, anything to add?”

Oliver shook his head and his eyes darted to Coach Burton, seeing him looking at him expectantly.

“Not really,” he said, but Coach Burton narrowed his eyes at him and Oliver cleared his throat, the team sharing amused looks and Hermione sniggering. “Jus’ be careful an’ keep an eye oot fer bludgers; the Tornados are best known fer their beaters, an’ their chasers are fast, so yer gunna have tae be on yer game tae keep up with them.”

Coach Burton nodded and took over. “Right, we’re due on the pitch in twenty-five minutes, Hermione’s going to give you all the once over and once you’re cleared, head to the waiting room,” he instructed. “And for the love of Merlin...” The large dog that was in the room and sat by Hermione’s side gave a bark at his name, pulling a laugh from everyone and helping to relieve some of the tension in the room. “Don’t embarrass me.”

“Charming,” Hermione said amused, Coach Burton scowling at her as he walked past and stepped out the room to head to the Coach’s box, and the others sniggered at her. “Right, boys, we don’t have long so no dilly-dallying. It may have finally stopped snowing but we are forecast heavy rain, so I’ve already spelled your goggles to repel the water. If you need them they’re in the Coach’s box. Right, Tony, we’ll start with you,” she said.

Wilks stood from the bench, picked up his broom and approached Hermione, stopping in front of her.

“You have your glasses?”

“Yep,” the tall redhead replied, looking down at her as she had to tilt her head back to look at him, him being one of the tallest members on the team and her being tiny compared to him, well, all of them really.

Hermione took them from him when he held them out to her, pulled her wand and muttered beneath her breath, a blue glow settling over the glasses before disappearing.

“I’ve placed a temporary Sticking Charm on them so they won’t fall off during the game. Do you have your spare pair in case they get damaged or broken?” She asked, handing his glasses back and he nodded, placing his spare pair in her hand for her to keep a hold of in case he needed them. “Any headaches? Nausea? Dizziness? Did you eat breakfast?” She asked.

“No, no, no, and yes, a full English,” he answered.

“Okay, you’re cleared to play, off you go,” she spoke.

Next, she saw to Kings, Pallie, Bishop and Thompson, asking them the same questions before clearing them to fly and then she moved onto Malloy.

The shaggy-haired blonde stood from the bench and approached Hermione, his height matching Oliver’s and Hermione had to tilt her head back once more.

“You feeling up to it?” Hermione asked him softly.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly before nodding his head. Unfortunately, Malloy had relapsed on New Year’s Eve, the temptation being too much for him, especially when everyone he knew was out drinking and having a good time to celebrate the new year. He’d been devastated the next day when he’d come to and found Hermione having dozed off in the armchair in his living room. It had taken Hermione a long while to calm him and assure him that she wasn’t disappointed in him, as up until that point he’d been sober for nine days and the first week was usually the hardest.

Since then he hadn’t had a drink in fourteen days, and though Hermione knew he struggled and he found it hard to resist the temptation, he’d found ways to help him cope, one of them being going to therapy which Hermione had suggested. She’d put him in contact with a squib-muggle therapist she’d known and despite him being apprehensive about it, he’d soon thanked her for doing so, especially since he didn’t have to hide himself away with it being a Squib he was talking to.

“I’m fine,” he said.

“Okay, how’s your shoulder?” She asked as two days prior he’d been smacked by a bludger. While it hadn’t caused much damage and it had been an easy fix, the pain still lingered and if he was still hurting, she didn’t want him playing.

“Pain’s gone,”

“You’re not lying to me, are you?”

“No,” he promised.

Hermione raised an eyebrow before lifting her hand, curling it into a fist and punching him in the shoulder. He didn’t wince or flinch or react except for an amused twitch to his mouth.

“Alright, off you go,” she said, tilting her head towards the door.

Malloy gave her a mock salute before darting out the room when she raised her hand to hit him again, his laughter being heard as he ran down the corridor and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Oliver stood from the bench and approached her, feeling no need to hide his smile or be conscious about the fact he stood closer to her than the others had because they were the only two left in the changing rooms.

“Shirt up,” Hermione instructed and he looked at her amused, but used his free hand which wasn’t currently holding his broom, to lift the edge of his Quidditch jumper, revealing to her his abdomen.

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she bent slightly to get a better look at the bruise that was just below his ribs where he’d been hit with a bludger the week before. Her hand came up and gently probed around the tender, discoloured skin.

“A feel fine, it doesn’t hurt,” he said before she could even ask.

She pursed her lips before prodding the wound and he winced as she looked up at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Af course tha’ hurt, ye weren’t exactly gentle, were ye?” He said. “A can move aboot an’ a fergot it was even there,” he said.

She eyed him carefully before slowly nodding and rising back to full height. “How are your hands feeling? Any tension or cramp?”

“Some,” he admitted, putting his hand in hers when she held it out expectantly and he sighed when he felt her fingers needing at the muscles through the leather of his gloves.

“Are you alright? You were a little jumpy this morning,” she said.

“Jus’ nervous,” he confessed. “A mean, it’s the first game tae be played in nearly twa years, the bosses are expectin’ us tae win.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” she commented softly, accepting his other hand and setting to work easing the tension from the muscles. “But whether or not you win or lose, you just have to remember that you’ve only had a few short months to get the team match ready and you’ve all had your own issues and problems that have prevented you from working at your best, but you’ve overcome them and have since been working exceptionally hard.”

“Yer weren’t a problem,” Oliver spoke honestly.

“I was a little bit of a problem,” she shrugged her shoulders. “But between Tony’s eyesight, Ben’s drinking, my appearance in your life and the neglect of Healer Dodd, you’ve had a lot working against you and for you to have gotten the team to where they are now, no matter the outcome of the match, you should be exceptionally proud of yourself because I am. I’m very proud of you, and you’re a wonderful Captain to your team,” she said.

Oliver’s stomach seemed to flip-flop and not only at her words but at the soft smile she gave him as she looked up at him and away from his hand. She released his hand and stepped back from him.

“Headaches? Nausea? Dizziness?” She asked. He shook his head. “Well, I know you had breakfast but if I’m being honest, I’m not happy that you ate so little of it. If you feel light-headed or a little fuzzy, I want you off that broom and back on the ground, got it?”

“Got it,” he nodded.

“Good, I won’t wish you luck because I know you don’t need it and we have the home-court advantage. So, you better run, you’re due on the pitch in a couple of minutes.”

His eyes widened and he looked up to the clock on the wall above her, realising that she was right.

“Shite,” he cursed and she snorted at him when all but ran from the room.

She turned and stood in the doorway, watching as he jogged down the corridor. “Please be careful,” she said quietly. “My heart can’t take it,” she sighed as he disappeared around the corner and was gone from her view.

~000~000~000~

Hermione _hated_ Quidditch.

Well, she didn’t so much mind the sport, she just hated when she had to watch and she always had, especially when it was her friends she was cheering for in school. But now, it was so much worse.

Not only was she cheering for the team that employed her, the players that she looked after and had come to think of as friends, but she was forced to watch Oliver, the wizard she admitted she’d fallen in love with. And not only that but she was in the Coach’s box and it had the best seats in the entire stadium, making her experience all the more frightening for her as she could more or less see everything that was happening.

She’d hoped that in the weeks that would pass she’d find a way to get over Oliver, she’d find something that would be a major turn off for her, but unfortunately, that hadn’t been the case. Oliver was just too kind, too generous, too damn caring and patient that nothing about him seemed to put her off. He didn’t chew with his mouth open, he didn’t interrupt her when she was reading, he wasn’t selfish or arrogant. There was more to him than his love for Quidditch and he’d let down his defences to let her see that, to let her see the real him.

Knowing that she wouldn’t be able to get over him if they were under the same roof, she knew she’d have to move out, but Oliver had stopped that from happening. The way he looked at her when he’d all but demanded that she stay with him, it had broken down every wall she’d deliberately put up to prevent exactly that from happening, and she’d crumbled.

In the weeks that followed he gave her space but was never too far away if she needed him. He’d gone to Diagon Alley with her knowing that she was afraid to go out alone, and without thought, he’d dropped what he was doing when she’d contacted him on the verge of another panic attack. He kept her busy, he sat with her in the library when she read, he made sure she ate enough, he sat with her for hours talking about their families and lives before and during Hogwarts, and she didn’t have to hide from him, she didn’t have to keep secrets because she trusted him to keep anything she revealed to himself. There wasn’t a wizard she trusted more in the world than Oliver, and as much as she hated to admit it, that even included Harry.

She didn’t know how she would get over him, or even if she _could_ , but she hoped it was well before Oliver ever entered a relationship with another witch because the thought alone gripped at her heart and made her feel sick.

Hearing a reaction from the crowd, her attention snapped back up to players and after squinting her eyes to better see through the rain, it was to see that Thompson had just narrowly avoided a bludger, but in doing so had lost sight of the snitch he’d been chasing. Looking up to the scoreboard, she saw that during her musings the Tornados had managed to score ten points. In the two and a half hours that the match had been going, both teams had only managed to earn a total of fifty points each and Hermione didn’t care who won, she just wished it was all over soon because she was sure her heart couldn’t take much more of the fear and worry.

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Hermione said, Coach Burton not giving her a second glance as she turned away and he continued with shouting at the players.

She’d only been gone ten minutes, spending most of her time splashing water over her face and trying to calm herself down, but when she made her way down the stands and approached the railing where Coach Burton stood, she felt the breath being knocked out of her and she swayed on her feet when the crowd chorused gasps of shock and a bludger slammed straight into Oliver.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as Oliver toppled off his broom, heading towards the ground at a speed that would kill him on impact. The referee was quick enough to catch Oliver and slow down his descent until he was lowered onto a stretcher.

Hermione, feeling a hand gripping at her arm to steady her, lifted her head to see Coach Burton watching her carefully, his eyes darting between the pitch and her.

“I’m fine,” she lied, pulling herself free from his grasp and she turned and darted for the hidden set of stairs that led down to the pitch.

She darted across the field and burst through the doors of the treatment bay, her breathing being laboured and her hair and clothing soaked from the heavy rain. She busied herself with grabbing a variety of potions off the shelves and placed them on the rolling medical tray beside the bed. As soon as she’d done that, the doors burst open and two officials of the game brought Oliver in on the stretcher before he was levitated onto the bed and they left when Hermione dismissed them.

Her breath caught when she looked down at him, seeing the alarming amount of blood that stemmed from his nose and covered the front of his Quidditch uniform and he was unconscious, his chest rising and falling rhythmically. Taking a breath, she composed herself knowing she had to detach herself emotionally lest she made things worse.

She rolled up the sleeves of her healer’s robes -these ones being navy blue with the Puddlemere logo on the breast side pocket and ‘OPUTH GRANGER’ written across the back- and she pulled her wand, siphoning away the blood to get a better look at the wound and clearing his airway to prevent him from suffocating.

After several diagnostic spells, it revealed that his injuries weren’t as bad as the amount of blood led her to believe. His only injury was that of a broken nose, except the bludger had hit him so hard, it hadn’t broken his nose but rather shattered the bones.

Knowing it was an easy enough fix, she first removed all of the bone fragments to prevent any from potentially getting to his heart or brain and then she reached for the Skele-Gro Potion, pouring the foul concoction into Oliver’s mouth and massaging at his throat to help it better go down.

For caution’s sake, she cast a few more diagnostic charms and they all came back clear, so she raised her wand, dried Oliver’s hair and clothing and sat down in a chair beside the bed, waiting for him to wake. But as soon as she sat down, she let go of her composure and it all came crashing down on her, tears filling her eyes and her face burying in her hands.

~000~000~000~

Oliver’s eyes slowly opened and he grunted against the bright lights that met him. Taking a moment, he took in the sounds of the rain pelting against metal, of the crowd cheering and booing and of... crying. Upon the realisation, he forced his eyes to open and noting that he was lying flat on his back on an uncomfortable surface, he tried to push himself up only to groan when his head started pounding and a sudden dizzy spell hit him.

Hearing a gasp, the sound of glass hitting metal and of a chair scraping across the ground, he tilted his head to the side, ignoring the pain as his eyes locked on Hermione, her hair looking damp, her clothing wet and her eyes red and puffy as they swam with tears. That sight alone filled him with enough worry that he forgot about the pain in his head and he pushed himself up, supporting himself on his hands.

“No, Oliver, lay back down,” Hermione instructed, her voice sounding a little hoarse as she stood from the chair and reached out to try to push him back down.

Oliver didn’t listen and sat up straight, swinging his legs over the bed until his feet touched the floor and they were facing each other.

“What happened?” He asked.

She took a breath and wiped at her face, trying to be subtle but failing. “From what I can gather, you’d just stopped a quaffle from getting through the hoops and because of that you were distracted and didn’t have time to move out of the way of the bludger. You were knocked off your broom and the damage done wasn’t as severe as I first thought. It was fixed easily enough with a Skele-Gro. You’ve been out just over an hour, plenty enough time for the potion to finish re-growing the bones.”

“Why are ye crying?” He asked softly.

“I’m not,” she denied, giving him a weak smile.

The look he gave her had that smile dropping and her eyes filled with tears once more. He reached out for her wrist and gave her a gentle tug, pulling her closer to him and she went willingly, her tears spilling down her cheeks and she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she dared to without hurting him.

“It frightened me, I was so worried about you,” she sniffled.

Oliver’s heart broke at seeing her so upset about what she’d witnessed and he could understand, he’d felt the same way when she’d had panic attacks and he wasn’t sure how to help her when he just wanted to protect her and end her pain and suffering.

“Damsel, am sorry fer worrying ye, an’ am fine now,” he said softly, holding her a little tighter when she made to pull back from him and she sighed, seeming glad that he’d done so.

They stayed that way for several minutes, neither of them talking but just holding each other.

“How are you feeling?” Hermione asked, slowly pulling back from him to show that the tears were gone from her eyes but they were still a little red, and she peered down at his face.

“Not tae bad, a suppose,” he replied.

“Headache?”

“Aye, it’s killing mae,” he said, bringing his hands up to his temples before a potion vial appeared in front of him and he took it, downing it gratefully when the ache began to ease.

“What a way to spend your birthday,” Hermione said.

Oliver chuckled at her and handed the empty vial back to her. “A don’ mind havin’ a match on me birthday.”

“And spending it in the treatment bay?” She asked.

“It’s not so bad, am with ye aren’t a?” He responded, a smile pulling at his face when her cheeks tinged pink and her eyes darted down to the ground.

“Well, your plans for tonight shouldn’t be affected by your injury, though your nose may feel tender for an hour or so,” she said, knowing the team were taking Oliver out for a night of Merlin knows what wizards got up to when drinking.

“Yer coming, right? Tae show the team hoo it’s done?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “Umm, no, I can’t make it tonight, I’m sorry. But your present is waiting for you at the manor.”

He frowned slightly, feeling disappointed. “Why not?” He asked, unsure how he should feel when she fiddled with her fingers, her teeth nibbled at her bottom lip and her cheeks flushed pink, all indicators of her being nervous or embarrassed.

“I have a date,”

“What?” Oliver blurted out, a little too roughly as she jumped in surprise and her eyes darted to him. He composed himself and said softer this time, “With who?”

“I...er...I don’t actually know, it’s a blind date.”

“Is tha’ really wise?” He asked as carefully as he could, not wanting to upset her.

“Probably not,” she admitted. “It’s Ginny’s fault. I went out to lunch with her the other day and I don’t actually know how, but it resulted in me agreeing to a blind date. I don’t know who he is but Ginny does. Apparently he used to live near The Burrow and he went to Hogwarts, he was in the twins’ year, but that’s all I know. I don’t particularly want to go, but it’s very hard to say no to Ginny, and I’ve already agreed to and don’t want to disappoint anyone. At the very least, it should help me move on,” she spoke, and in more ways than one she hoped.

Oliver frowned but knew he had no right to tell her what to do with her life. They weren’t together and she could do what she wanted and date who she wanted.

“I don’t plan on staying out long and we’re meeting in a fairly busy part of Diagon Alley so they’ll always be people around and I can leave any time I want to. I’ll probably get back before you so I’ll have a Sobriety Potion waiting for you. It would be both cruel and dangerous for you to train with a hangover.”

“An’ this is definitely somethin’ ye want?” He asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve got to do this at some point, right? I’m not actually looking for a relationship, but going out on a single date can’t hurt. At the very least I have a nice meal and I can come home.”

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

“Cheer up, Cap, it’s your birthday,” Pallie said, slinging his arm around his shoulders and taking a swig of the muggle beer he held in his hand.

Oliver rolled his eyes. Whilst Pallie was by far the least drunk of his teammates, that wasn’t a comforting thought and he was well on his way to having a hangover in the morning. All of his team had come to the manor after the match and had dragged him out for a night of celebration, and even Malloy was there. Oliver had assured the blonde that he didn’t have to come as he knew the temptation would be too strong, but he’d merely waved him off and told him ‘he wouldn’t miss it for the world.’ And much to Oliver’s surprise, he’d been doing really well and all night the only thing he’d seen him drink was water.

He himself had had a couple of fire whiskeys and a few beers and whilst he did feel a little buzzed, he wasn’t drunk and his mind was still clear enough to keep him alert. They were in the Crimson Lion, it now being his teammates' favourite hotspot for both the variety of alcohol they served and the mix of muggle and wizarding music they played, not to mention, the price for entry and the drinks were hard to compete with.

Once they’d entered they’d gone straight to the bar and when Oliver had ordered the first round, Lee Jordan had refused to take payment saying that all drinks were on the house. Oliver had known immediately that was Hermione’s doing, it being another gift to him. The first being a handful of novelty muggle cooking aprons with ridiculous quotes on that had made him laugh, the matching chef’s hats and the black and white checked trousers. Though he’d known she’d done it for a laugh, he’d still appreciated it all the same. But she’d also baked him a cake, and he didn’t know how she’d done so without him seeing, and not only was it a birthday cake, but his favourite, too.

Being reminded of Hermione, he remembered where she currently was and knowing that the witch you were in love with was on a date with another wizard really wasn’t a good feeling, it being one of the reasons he wasn’t in the mood to party. He couldn’t blame her for it, as not only were they not together and he had no say in her life, but she didn’t know of his feelings for her and if she did, he was sure she wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt him and that meant she wouldn’t date at all, it stopping her from living her life.

With her being on a date it made him realise that before he knew it she would be in a relationship with another wizard and he didn’t want to be the poor sod that was in love with her and that had been friend-zoned. He needed to find a way to get over her.

“Are you really sulking ‘coz we didn’t win?” Pallie asked.

Oliver frowned slightly but shook his head, reaching for his pint. They hadn’t won the match but they hadn’t lost either since they’d tied.

With players unable to be substituted when mid-game, it meant they’d had to play with the keeper down and no one to defend the hoops, so the chasers had to work extra hard to keep hold of the quaffle. The Tornados were beating them by a landslide until Thompson caught the snitch and given the scoreboard at the time, it meant they tied for the game. The competitive side of him would rather they’d have won, but given he’d been out of the match he couldn’t deny they’d done well to tie the game, and seeing as it technically wasn’t a loss, the bosses hadn’t been too unhappy with them either, so that was a bonus.

“Am not sulking,” he replied.

“And I’m not the greatest chaser in the world,” Pallie said, wincing when Malloy reached out from beside Oliver to slap him on the back of the head.

“Am not sulking,” he repeated. “Am jus’ pacing meself, ye know Coach is gunna be brutal at training. If we turn up with a hangover he’ll make it ten times worse.”

“I see your point,” Pallie grimaced. “But at least put a smile on ya face, you look miserable.”

Oliver rolled his eyes before he allowed them to search the room for the rest of his teammates, the majority of them being on the dance floor. As he moved his eyes back towards his beer, he accidentally locked gazes with a witch, and Oliver admitted that she was quite pretty with her long, loose wavy hair, light brown eyes and tanned skin. The witch in question smiled at him and beckoned him over to her on the dance floor.

There was only one way he was going to get over Hermione.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Manor**

Oliver had never felt so shitty in his life.

He’d never regretted a decision as much as he did right now.

Trudging up the stairs and opening the door, he stepped into the living room and headed over to the couch, flopping down and leaning back into the cushions. Tiredly, he scrubbed a hand over his face and wondered what the hell he was thinking in going home with that witch.

With a few drinks in him and thinking it best he got over Hermione as quickly as possible, it had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Merlin, now he just felt like an arsehole.

It wasn’t until he was mid-sex with the witch that he realised he’d made a mistake and a big one. It wasn’t until he looked down at the brunette that he’d realised what he’d done. The witch, she reminded him of Hermione. Her hair wasn’t as curly or wild, her skin needed to be paler, her eyes darker and her lashes longer, but his subconscious had chosen her because she was the witch that had looked most like Hermione at the bar. Hermione was the witch he wanted.

Upon realising that fact, he’d felt as though he were betraying her and he didn’t know how he’d managed to not bolt from the witch’s apartment right away. He knew she’d already orgasmed by that point and he wouldn’t feel too bad for just leaving her, so it had been easy enough to pull away from her and fake an orgasm. She’d fallen asleep not long later which was when he took his leave, apparated home and took a literal walk of shame.

Sighing to himself and knowing Hermione wasn’t yet home, he stood from the couch and headed to his room as the need for a shower became too great. After stepping out, drying and throwing on some clothes, he headed to the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea and he sat on the couch in silence, trying to convince himself that he absolutely _wasn’t_ waiting up until Hermione got home.

~000~000~000~

Oliver startled awake when the floo roared to life, his neck aching from the odd angle it had been laid at when he’d dozed off. Looking over the back of the couch, he saw Hermione stumble from the fireplace and almost fall, so he darted from the couch and over to her, helping to steady her.

She looked up at him, her hair tussled and wild, her eyes bright, her skin flushed and her smile wide. Looking down at her, he noted that she looked beautiful whilst wearing a simple black cocktail dress that wasn’t too revealing and silver strappy heels on her feet.

“Oliver,” she greeted brightly. Seeing as her words hadn’t been slurred and she was able to stand straight without his help, he thought her to be slightly tipsy rather than drunk. “How was your night? Did you have fun? Do I need to get you a Sobriety Potion? Merlin, I’m surprised you got back before I did,” she said, noticing that he was wearing pyjamas.

“It was fine,” he lied, his guilt seeming to grow when she looked up at with her big brown eyes and bright smile. “An' a dinnae drink much so a don’ need a potion. Do ye?” He asked, feeling amused at seeing her this way. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her so happy.

She laughed at him and shook her head. “No, I’m fine, thank you, just a bit merry but certainly not enough to feel it in the morning.”

“So, a take it yer date went well,” he said, and he hated himself because he was hoping it hadn’t.

“Oh no, that was a complete disaster,” she said brightly and he blinked, being surprised that she seemed so happy with that outcome.

She bent down to unbuckle the straps of her shoes, before slipping her feet free, leaving her shoes by the fireplace and heading over to the couch. He took a seat beside her and she pulled her legs up, tucking them beneath her as she turned to face him, her elbow resting on the back of the couch and her head supported by her hand.

“He was too self-absorbed, he barely let me get a word in because he was too busy talking about himself. He was rude to the waiting staff, he ordered my food for me, a salad might I add, and he assumed that I would pay for the both of us because he said and I quote. ‘You’re rich, you can afford it.’”

“Shite,” he said, genuinely surprised and also feeling ashamed of the wizarding population. If there was ever a person who deserved to be treated with kindness and respect it was Hermione. “Sounds like a charmer.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “It’s alright, Harry almost decked him one,” she said and Oliver snorted. “Turns out Ginny hadn’t completely done me over, she and Harry were at the same restaurant on a date of their own and to keep an eye on things and make sure I was safe. As soon as I paid for my meal, we left the restaurant and went out for a few drinks. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had so much fun,” she said brightly. “And she suckered me into another blind date on Saturday. She’s assured me that this one isn’t an arsehole but I don’t really care. I’m more looking forward to going out with her and Harry again, but I suppose having a meal before isn’t too much of an ask.”

“So, why are ye so happy aboot yer date bein’ so bad?” He asked curiously.

She shrugged her shoulders but the smile didn’t leave her face. “When I was on my date, I realised that for the first time in a long time, I’m free. I don’t have to worry; I no longer have to look over my shoulder. I can be seen in public with a man without fear of him being harmed. I may have been apprehensive about it, as I am about the next one, but I can do whatever I wish to now.”

~000~000~000~

**Wood Manor - Saturday 30th January 1999**

“So, what do you think?”

Oliver looked up from the counter, pausing in his movements of chopping up the carrots and onions and putting the knife down.

Hermione stood in the doorway of the kitchen, her curly hair pulled back from her face in a messy bun but some had already fallen loose and were framing her face. She wore a navy blue dress with capped sleeves that sat off the shoulder and the hem of the dress ended just below her knees. On her feet she wore the same silver strappy heels she seemed to favour and she had the matching clutch purse held in her hand.

“Beautiful,” he said honestly and she beamed at him, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Thank you, do you think it’s dark enough? Will the colour allow me to slip away into the cover of the shadows so I can leave without my date noticing?”

Oliver chuckled at her and crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye, it jus’ might,” he responded. “Ye seem tae have really bad luck,” he commented, not that he was complaining.

In the two weeks that had passed Hermione had been on a total of six blind dates all set up by Ginny and with each date she attended, Hermione always came back a little bit merry, with flushed cheeks and horror stories of what her dates had said or done in the little time she’d spent with them.

Oliver had come to understand that the only reason she went on these dates in the first place was to keep Ginny off her back and she also used it as an excuse to be able to leave the manor and have a little fun with her friends because that’s how each of her dates had ended; Hermione parting ways with the wizards at the restaurant and meeting up with Harry and Ginny for a few drinks. Not that she needed an excuse; for years she was unable to let loose and have fun with her friends and when the time for that being possible came, she was prevented from doing so by a group of deranged wizards. Now that she was free and had no reason to worry, she could have the life she deserved. She may have been mature for her age as well as having a highly-respected profession and position for someone her age, but she was still a nineteen-year-old witch, and she deserved to have some fun.

But knowing this, Oliver no longer felt hurt or upset by it because she had no intentions of actually dating, but sooner or later he knew that was going to change, sooner or later she would go on a date with someone that wasn’t rude, or insulting, or arrogant and she’d be swept off her feet and Oliver was dreading the day that happened.

“So, what are you making?” She asked, coming over to the counter beside him and swiping a slice of carrot, laughing when he batted her hands away.

“Chicken pie, vegetables, roast potatoes an’ gravy,” he answered.

Hermione let out a sigh. “I might just cancel and stay here, I’ve no doubt I’ll probably enjoy my time with you a lot more.”

Oliver was unable to stop the way he stood taller and his chest seemed to puff out, but still, he said, “It’s tae late tae cancel, yer meetin’ him in ten minutes so ye better go or ye’ll be late.”

“But, Oliver, it’s chicken pie,” she whined.

He snorted at her. “Ye an’ a both know am making enough fer us both, even fer yer third helpings,” he said amused.

“It’s not my fault you’re such a great cook. I highly doubt anything I eat tonight will be as good as your chicken pie, and as such, I might just stick to breadsticks until my date says something that has me wanting to reach over and slap him.”

“Flattery won’t get ye an extra pie,” he told her.

“Will a smile?” She asked, giving him her brightest smile possible.

“A’ll think aboot it,” he replied.

She looked disappointed but otherwise shook her head. “Right, I better go, I would say don’t wait up for me but we both know I won’t be gone long, so I’ll see you soon.”

She leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek before walking out of the room, her heels making noise against the floor and her munching on the carrot stick she’d stolen.

Oliver hoped that this date went bad, too.

~000~000~000~

When the floo roared to life Hermione had only been gone an hour and he looked up to the fireplace expectantly but was disappointed to see that it was his father.

“Don’ look so sad tae see mae, son,” he said amused, crossing the room and sitting on the other couch, watching Oliver curiously when he saw him laid out on the couch with the large dog sprawled across his chest and Oliver was reading through the evening edition of the _Daily Prophet._

“A wisnae expecting ye,” Oliver replied.

His father nodded. “Anno we promised tae let ye know befere we came over, but am not staying an’ this will only take a few minutes.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow and his father sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.

“As ye know, yer mother had her last potential chemotherapy session the other day, an’ we’ve made an appointment with Dr. Clay fer Wednesday afternuin tae talk aboot her condition.”

“A’ll be there, Coach will let mae leave early,” Oliver said.

His father smiled. “Anno ye’ll be there, but yer mother has asked if Hermione will attend.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow when his father smiled innocently. “A’ll ask her, but am sure she won’t mind. She’s adamant she be a part af Ma’s treatment, she doesn’t really trust anyone else tae look after her.”

“Great, a’ll tell yer mother. Oot af curiosity, where is Hermione?”

Oliver narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Gone on a date, why?”

His father’s eyes widened and his mouth parted slightly. “An’ yer okay with tha’?” He asked surprised.

“Why wouldn’t a be?” Oliver said, but his father gave him a very telling look and Oliver sighed. “A cannae stop her, Da. If she wants tae go on dates, then she can; it’s her life.”

“But ye love her, don’ ye?”

“A love her,” Oliver admitted, saying those words aloud for the first time and doing so in front of his father. The look on his face worried Oliver that he was about to have a heart attack. “A love her more than a’ve ev’r loved anythin’, a love her more than a should, an’ fer tha’ reason am not gunna interfere in her life jus’ tae make meself happy or me life a wee bit easier. Not tha’ it really matters, she’s only goin’ on these dates tae get oot af the manor fer a bit. The issues tha’ she was dealing with are gone an’ she’s safe now, and with her new found freedom she’s enjoying herself like she deserves. She’s got naw interest in dating an’ each date she’s been on has been a disaster and resulted in her leaving the restaurant an’ goin’ fer drinks with her friends.”

“Oliver, I’m home!” Hermione’s voice called from the foyer downstairs.

“Tha’s me cue tae leave,” his father said.

Oliver nodded. “A’ll ask her aboot Wednesday, an’ if a don’ see ye befere, a’ll see ye then.”

As his father disappeared into the flames, the door opened and Hermione stepped inside.

“Ye weren’t gone long. Why’d ye not floo?” Oliver asked, lifting himself up the best he could considering the large and heavy dog that was sprawled across him.

She huffed and he noted that her skin was flushed and she had an annoyed look on her face as she bent to unbuckle the straps around her ankles and she crossed over to the couch in bare feet, sitting herself down by his feet and reaching out to scratch Merlin when he lifted his head and licked at her hand in greeting.

“Not go well?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, he was the worst one yet,” she fumed. “Not only was he late, but he was _very_ late. Ten, fifteen minutes I can let go, but he was half an hour late! And not only that, do you know what his first words were to me?” He shook his head, unsure if he should be amused by her annoyance or angry on her behalf. “Go on, have a guess,” she encouraged.

“A honestly don’ know,” he said.

She huffed and picked up the couch cushion from behind her and threw it across the room, letting out a noise of frustration.

“He said and I quote... ‘You’re not as skinny as I thought you’d be’.”

“Shut up,” Oliver said, his eyes widening in surprise and his eyes traced her features. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on her. “He dinnae?”

“Oh he did, the prat’s lucky I didn’t hex him then and there. But you know, I thought it might just be nerves, a lot of people act differently when they meet me, so I gave him another chance. I ordered steak...”

“Ye do love yer steaks,” Oliver nodded knowingly.

“Well, of course, it wasn’t as good as yours, but that’s beside the point. The cheeky sod had the audacity to say that I couldn’t possibly eat it because it was a man’s food. And when I did eat it all and ordered dessert, he said and I quote... ‘Well, no wonder you’re so chubby.’”

Oliver’s mouth dropped open.

“Yeah, exactly,” she huffed. “I did order a slice of cake to bring back for you, but I’m sorry to say, he ended up wearing it.”

Oliver laughed at her. “A much better ootcome,” he assured her.

“It’s alright, the restaurant owner was there and happened to witness the entire disaster that was my night, so he gave me my meal free of charge and said that the next time I visit, if I bring a more suitable date he’ll give me a bottle of champagne and desserts free of charge.”

“Tha’s nice af him,” Oliver remarked.

“Not really, if you think about it, it’s good advertisement for his business. If someone of my status is seen eating there then it surely must be good for others, too.”

“A see yer point,” he nodded, his mouth twitching when she crossed her arms over her chest and her lip jutted out in an adorable pout. “Yer sulky,” he commented.

“I’m sulky,” she agreed.

“Don’ be sulky,”

“But I want to be sulky,” she cried.

He snorted at her. “A’ve got a chicken pie with yer name on it.”

“Alright, now I’m happy,” she said, springing up from her seat and darting into the kitchen.

“Did a jus’ get played?” He asked the large dog and he barked in response.

“Like Quidditch!” Hermione called from the kitchen and he snorted, shifting a couch cushion behind his head to prop it up more comfortably.

Hermione entered back into the room and much to his amusement, she hadn’t bothered with the dinner he’d left on a plate in the oven, and it contained all the trimmings. Rather, she’d selected the extra pie he’d made and carried the tin in her hand with a fork in the other and she sat back on the couch.

“As I said, the restaurant’s food was nowhere near as good as yours. I should’ve just stayed home; I would’ve saved myself a lot of embarrassment and abuse.”

“But ye wouldn’t have gotten a free dinner,” he pointed out.

“Still not worth it. I’d happily give my entire fortune for your chicken pie,” she said, a little sigh leaving her when she forked some into her mouth. “And you know what else? The prat couldn’t grasp the concept of eating with his mouth closed. I like seafood but not that much.”

“Tha’ was bad,” he said amused.

She shrugged. “I thought it was funny. But seriously, it was like being on a date with a slightly meaner Ron and I didn’t think that was possible, and don’t even get me started on his face.”

“What aboot it?” He asked amused.

“I said don’t get me started, but since you asked... I admit he was handsome and damn his eyes were like the Caribbean Ocean, but his face... It was just so _punchable_.”

His snort turned into a chuckle, which turned into a laugh until they were both laughing with their eyes on the verge of watering and Hermione almost dropped her pie which quickly sobered her.

“Gin’s offered up another date but I said no, I’ve placated her long enough and now I’m done with it all. No more dates. If I feel the right wizard’s walked into my life, then we’ll see, but until then, you’re stuck with me.”

“Ye make tha’ sound like a fate worse than death,” he replied.

“It is,” she nodded. “I’m a pain in the arse, I know it but I can’t really change it either. So, sorry,” she shrugged. “You didn’t happen to make another pie, did you?” She asked, showing him the now empty pie tin.

“What do a get in return?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The biggest, brightest, cheesiest grin that I could possibly muster,” she replied, doing so and he snorted at her.

“Alright, a deal well struck, top left oven.”

“I mean it when I say you’re my favourite person ever, just don’t tell Harry, he might cry.”

~000~000~000~

“Where is it now?” Hermione sighed, her eyes searching her room for the little duck that her dog loved so much.

Not long after moving in with Oliver, he’d bought Merlin a new toy –despite him having many- in the form of a duck teddy and Merlin was surprisingly gentle with it considering how he was with all his other toys. In fact, this particular duck was his baby, or he certainly treated it as if it was, and since having been given it, Merlin refused to sleep without it. He was able to nap during the day but when it came to actual bedtime, he refused to sleep unless he had it with him. And despite not being needed at the stadium the next morning, it was nearing midnight and she was in dire need of some sleep.

Hermione had searched her bathroom, bedroom and closet and being unable to find it, she left her room in search, checking the living room and the kitchen before heading downstairs. She’d already checked the dining room and kitchen, the piano room and the library and it brought her onto the last room, the swimming pool.

Carefully, as she didn’t want to trip and fall, she searched beneath the lounge chairs before carefully walking around the pool, spotting the small duck in the corner of the room. She grumbled beneath her breath and picked it up, making her way back towards the door. Unfortunately for her, Merlin saw her holding it and he barked excitedly, ran over to her and jumped up at her. In doing so, he pushed her backwards and a scream fell from her lips as she toppled backwards and straight into the pool.

Panic filled her as the chlorine stung her eyes, water went up her nose and filled her mouth. She moved her arms and legs frantically, trying to get up to the surface so she could breathe but she didn’t seem to be moving in any direction.

She felt the sudden movement of water around her and before she knew it, arms had wrapped around her and pulled her to the surface and she was spluttering and coughing whilst pushing her hair out of her face and blinking continuously to rid her eyes of the sting.

Her eyes locked on Oliver in front of her, a frightened look on his face, his arms wrapped around her and holding her to him, preventing her from falling back underneath the water and his pyjamas and hair soaked through just as hers was.

When she was able to breathe without coughing, she flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, feeling him holding her a little tighter and she let out a sigh.

“Merlin knocked me in,” she said quietly.

“A thought tha’ might’ve happened, a heard ye scream an’ him barking an’ came looking fer ye.”

“I was looking for his bloody duck, you know he won’t go to bed without it,” she grumbled.

“Yer safe now,” he promised her.

She pulled back from him slightly when she felt her back gently hit against a hard surface and she looked to see that he had trapped her between his body and the side of the pool.

“Why are you always my knight in shining armour?” She asked him.

He smiled at her amused. “Ev’ry damsel needs a knight, a guess am yers.”

“Yeah, you are,” she agreed, before reaching up to push his wet hair back from his eyes so he could better see.

When she lowered her hand, she realised that he was staring at her, and it was so intense she felt her cheeks flush and her breath hitched in surprise. She hadn’t realised how close they actually were with their chests pressed together and barely any space between their faces.

“Oliver,” Hermione whispered, when she saw his eyes dart away from hers and down to her mouth.

“Hmm?” He hummed quietly, his eyes darting back up to hers before moving to her mouth once more. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips in response.

“I...” She trailed off, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do.

Why was he looking at her like that? He didn’t care for her in that way, he didn’t have feelings for her the way she did him. He saw her as nothing more than a friend so he had no right to look at her the way he currently was. It was confusing. Why was he doing this to her?

“I...” She cleared her throat, her own eyes darting down to his mouth. “Screw it,” she muttered, before throwing caution to the wind; closing the gap between them and pressing her mouth against his.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 21

**Wood Estate - Saturday 30th January 1999**

Hermione had never been so surprised.

She didn't know where the courage to kiss Oliver had come from, to do the thing she'd been wanting to do for weeks. She didn't know if she was more surprised that she'd actually done it, or that Oliver barely let a second pass until he was responding to her.

So many confusing thoughts crossed her mind as Oliver's hold on her tightened and he pushed her into the side of the pool a little harder, but his arms cushioning her back from the sharp edge. But the moment he nipped at her lip and soothed the slight sting with a swipe of his tongue, she parted her lips for him and a sigh left her as his tongue met hers and she allowed herself to just get lost in him, the way she had on Christmas Eve.

Her hands wound up to his wet hair and tugged on the strands, a groan sounding from him and his hands slipped below the wet fabric of her pyjama shirt to rest gently on the small of her back. His touch did something to her. There was nothing inappropriate or arousing about it, except it still sent a zing of heat straight down to her core. It still had her stomach filling with that butterfly feeling. It still had her heart racing, heat coursing through her entire body and her very magic seeming to come to life.

His calloused fingers tickled at her skin and brought goosebumps forth, his heat surrounded her in the chill of the pool water and they were pressed together so tightly, she swore she could feel the hammering of his heart against her own.

This time the only reason she pulled away from him wasn't that she was startled, it was due to a lack of oxygen. Her breathing was heavier than usual and she kept her eyes closed, not feeling brave enough to see his reaction now that he'd had time to process what'd just happened between them, and it had been purely her fault.

God! She felt awful. She felt so guilty. How could she have done that to him? How could she have let her emotions get the better of her? How could she have forced herself onto him? She felt tears of shame sting at her eyes and brought her hands away from him, letting them hang awkwardly down her sides, the light splashing of the water being the only sound in the quiet room. She couldn't bear to look at him and her head tilted down towards her chin.

She felt one of his arms unwrap from around her and she thought his intentions were to pull away from her, only he didn't. If anything, he held her a little tighter and his hand came up to her face, his fingers gently grasping her chin and tilting her head up.

"Look at mae," he muttered.

She shook her head in his hold and screwed her eyes shut tighter.

"Damsel," he said softly, "Look at mae."

Hermione braced herself for what she might see and reluctantly she let her eyes flutter open. The moment their gazes locked she felt her face flame red with embarrassment and shame.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, tears gathering in her eyes and threatening to spill down her cheeks. "I'm so sorry, Oliver. I shouldn't have done that, oh, you must be so upset with me," she said, avoiding his gaze and trying to break free of his hold so she could climb out the pool and hide herself away until she was ready to face him again, which she was pretty sure would be never.

He held her tighter, though she wasn't sure that was actually possible.

"Calm doon," he said softly. "An' look at mae," he instructed.

Gathering what little courage she had left, her eyes wandered back to his, noticing the soft, but worried expression.

"Ye don' have tae apologise, ye did nothing wrong."

"But I did," she protested. "I practically forced myself on you. I'm a terrible human being. I let my emotions get the best of me, I let my feelings get in the way and I shouldn't have done that. I shouldn't have put you in this position."

Oliver froze in surprise, his hand falling from her chin, his eyes widening and his breath hitched slightly.

"Feelings?" He questioned.

Hermione's eyes widened and she lowered her head, not wanting him to see the panic that spread through her. She didn't want him to know. She knew he didn't feel the same and she didn't want him to feel awkward or pressured into anything. She didn't want him to reject her; she didn't think she'd be able to handle the pity or the embarrassment.

"What feelings?"

Hermione remained silent.

"Do ye have feelings fer mae?"

"N...No... Of course I don't, that would be ridiculous," she lied and badly. She'd always been a terrible liar and now it was going to bite her in the arse.

"Damsel, do ye have feelings fer mae?" He repeated, only this time there was something different about the way he spoke.

She wasn't entirely certain on what it was, but if she had to guess, she would've said that it had sounded almost hopeful. But she knew that was impossible, and still, she found herself lifting her head and getting caught in his big puppy dog eyes.

"Please don' lie tae mae," he breathed out, the arm that was still wrapped around her and pressed against the small of her back flexing.

"No," she lied.

"A don' believe ye," he said. "Tell mae the truth," he said, his eyes boring into hers.

Hermione couldn't take it and she shut her eyes against it, feeling tears well up once more and her cheeks burned hotter.

"I'm sorry,"

"Damsel?" He muttered.

"Yes," she breathed out, not willing to open her eyes and see his reaction. "I care about you. A lot. And as more than friends," she admitted.

His other arm wrapped around her once more and she both heard and felt the way he let out a deep breath when his chest brushed against hers. Not wanting to look but also being too curious about his reaction and him not pulling away from her like she'd expected him to, she forced herself to open her eyes and she'd never felt more confused in her life at the sight that met her.

Oliver's reaction was the exact opposite of what she'd expected. There was no pity, or embarrassment or even upset. In fact, whilst it was clear she'd surprised him with her confession, his eyes were brighter than she'd ever seen and his smile wider than she ever thought possible. Hell, if his fans could see him now she was sure he'd be getting mauled and pawed at beyond belief.

"Thank Merlin," he said relieved and he lowered his head, his mouth pressing against hers.

Hermione's eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed and her arms moved to wrap around his neck. Scratch that, _now_ she had never been more confused in her life.

The kiss was only a simple press of the lips and lasted no more than a few seconds, but the sheer intensity of it had taken her breath away. It was as if he was trying to convey his emotions by pouring them into the kiss and he pulled back from her, her eyes opening and getting lost in his beautiful orbs, before they fluttered closed and he pressed his forehead against hers.

"A've been wanting tae do tha' fer weeks."

"Huh?" She said dumbly.

"A care aboot ye. A lot. An' as more than friends," he echoed.

"Say what now?" She mumbled quickly.

He let out a chuckle and pulled back so he could look down at her. "A said, me feelings are mutual."

"What.... But...." She blinked slowly and he chuckled at her again. "Since when?"

"A cannae answer tha' fer certain," he replied honestly. "But a dinnae understand what it was a was feeling fer ye until Christmas Eve."

"Same," she replied in a surprised whisper, and he lowered his head to press a quick, chaste kiss to her mouth before pulling back with a smile on his face. "If you felt this way, why didn't you stop me from going on all those dates?"

"It wisane me right tae do tha'. A don' have a claim on ye or tae ye, regardless af hoo a feel or felt at the time. A'll admit, a _really_ dinnae like it, but a had naw right tae interfere."

"I wish you had," she replied with a sigh. "I've since realised why my dates were so awful." He raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't because they were rude, or insulting, or arrogant. It was because they didn't meet my expectations. For most of the date I spent my time comparing them to you and none of them matched up, not even a little bit."

He was surprised by her answer and it showed on his face.

"They weren't as kind, or charming, or just downright decent. They didn't make me smile or laugh the way you do. I didn't feel comfortable with them the way I do with you. I didn't feel safe or valued, or as though anything I said mattered. Not only did they annoy me with their words and behaviour, but they bored me, they couldn't keep me engaged. They couldn't keep up with me the way you can. All they cared about was the healer and war heroine, they didn't give a toss about _me_. And because of that, I _wanted_ the dates to be bad no matter of their behaviour. I wanted it to be _you_."

His hand came up to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing over her jawline and she titled her head into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second before opening again.

"Yer more than tha'. Yer more than what people believe or see," he said softly.

"And you're one of the few people that understand that," she replied. "You're one of the few people I trust to see me beyond the fame and reputation. You're one of the few people I can be myself around, and you're the only person I truly feel safe with," she admitted. "And I'm sorry. If I'd have known, I'd have never gone on those dates."

"Am sorry," he said. "If a'd have jus' come clean an' told ye the truth, told ye hoo a really felt, then we could've saved all this time we've wasted."

"The same could be said for me, but neither of us knew of the other's feelings and I certainly wasn't expecting your reaction or response. We were both afraid of what the other would think and feel, so we hid it from each other."

"An' still wasted all this time," he pointed.

"But now we don't have to, right?" She said, biting at her lip nervously.

He smiled down at her and nodded. "Right," he confirmed, before lowering his mouth and catching hers in a kiss.

A sigh left her when he teased her with little nips and licks before she parted for him and granted him entrance, one of her hands going into his hair to grip at the strands and the other clutching at the fabric of his wet t-shirt.

He felt her shiver against him and he pulled back from her, knowing he should get her out of the water before she caught hypothermia.

"We should probably get ye oot af the water," he said in an explanation as to why he pulled away from her, a smile pulling at his face when she didn't look pleased but otherwise she agreed.

Given they weren't that far away from the ladder, it was easy enough to help her over to it, letting her climb it first and he followed after her. She bent down to retrieve her wand after having dropped it when she'd fallen into the pool, and the Lumos Charm was still active.

Muttering the counter curse and the room falling into darkness with the only light being rays from the moon, Hermione pointed the wand at herself before casting a charm to dry both her clothing and hair and then she turned her wand on him and repeated the process. Lowering her wand arm, it hung loosely down her side as she and Oliver stared at her other silently, neither not exactly knowing what to say but still, it didn't feel awkward or strange to either of them.

With their eyes locked on each other and the short distance that was between them, the air was stuffy and hot, the atmosphere charged and tense and then something seemed to snap, and before either of them knew it, their arms were wrapped around each other, their bodies were pressed tightly together and they were kissing each other as if they would die if they stopped.

Oliver swooped down and lifted her off the ground, holding her against him in a way that was familiar to him after carrying her around when she'd been unable to walk. Whilst his arms supported her back and beneath her knees, Hermione's arms wound around his neck and her hands buried in his now dry hair, the strands still soft despite its interaction with the chlorine of the pool.

Oliver refused to take his mouth from hers and blindly navigated his way upstairs, banging into doors and walls and almost tripping on the stairs with giggles leaving Hermione every so often when he'd make a noise of pain but wouldn't pull away from her to see where he was going.

By the time he reached the corridor, he carried her straight past her bedroom and towards his own, giving the door a nudge with his foot to open it wider and he kicked it closed behind him. Whilst he knew they were the only humans at the manor, he didn't fancy the idea of Merlin wandering in or possibly one of the elves, and when his door was shut, they knew to knock first and enter only after he'd given them permission.

Knowing the layout of his bedroom a lot better than the manor itself, he easily found his way over to his bed, sitting down on the edge with Hermione draped over his lap. When she stood, he craned his neck to keep his mouth to hers and she slipped back onto his lap, this time straddling him.

It was clear they were both going a little dizzy from a lack of oxygen but neither wanted to be the one to pull away first. It was Hermione that broke, a slight gasp leaving her before she trailed light, teasing kisses across his cheek, nibbling at his jaw and moving down to his neck, lavishing it with kisses and nips.

His hands gripped at her hips to keep her in place and a groan fell from his mouth when she reached up to tug at his earlobe and sucking it into her mouth. He knew she'd been a virgin before everything had happened, and he knew that she did have some experience with this kind of thing as she'd told him herself, he just hadn't expected her to so good at it, but then again, there wasn't much Hermione Granger couldn't master.

Feeling his hands slip beneath her shirt and his calloused fingers pressing against her skin, Hermione pulled back from him and was grateful that she hadn't buttoned up her shirt all the way as she usually did, and she reached down for the hem and tugged her shirt over her head, dropping the item of clothing to the ground and revealing the black cotton bra she wore.

She knew she'd surprised him as his eyes widened and his hands gripped at her tightly and she barely stopped herself from laughing. She'd always been self-conscious about her body, even more so as she grew older seeing as her boobs and arse weren't as big as the other girls in her dorm, but then she'd been brought into the war and that came with scars, emotional, mental and physical. And Hermione had her fair share of scars.

At the moment Oliver's eyes were taking in the thick, large one that all but split her torso in half, a gift curtsey of Antonin Dolohov. It was one of the more hideous scars that she had, and despite knowing she was usually self-conscious about her body, right now she didn't seem to care. Not when Oliver's grip on her tightened and his eyes darkened at the sight of her, before his gaze locked on her breasts held snugly in her bra, watching the rise and fall movement of every breath she took and admittedly, her breathing was heavier than normal.

She leaned in closer with the intentions of snogging him senseless, only he leaned further back out of reach and his eyes darted up to her face, seeing her frown.

"We don' have tae do this," he said softly. "We don' have tae do anythin' ye don' want tae do. If ye jus' want tae stop things here an' have a cuddle, a won't think any differently af ye an' it won't change the way a feel aboot ye."

Hermione's frown softened. "I know," she replied. "You'd never hurt me, you don't have it in you to be so cruel, verbally, physically or otherwise."

"A don' want tae push ye."

"You're not," she assured him. "Anything that happens is what I want to happen, and I know that if I want to stop or I'm not comfortable, you won't make me feel bad about it."

"An' flashbacks? Yer'v been doin' so well lately."

She smiled at him. "I don't remember any of the actual attack, just a bit grabbing and groping before I blacked out and I'm grateful for that because it means they can't take this from me. Do you not want me because of what happened?"

"Af course a want ye," he said, looking at her as though she were crazy for even thinking that.

"That's what I thought. I'm fairly confident that anything that happens between us won't trigger a flashback because there's nothing to be triggered. Please, don't let them ruin this for us. Don't make this about them when it should be about us and what we want."

"If it gets tae much fer ye..."

"You'll be the first to know," she promised. "We all good now?" He nodded. "Great, kiss me."

Oliver didn't have to be told twice and leaned closer to claim her mouth, a little sigh leaving her and her hands tugging at his hair. A noise of surprise left her when he lifted her from his lap and set her down on the mattress and with a tug on his t-shirt, she pulled him to rest between her thighs until he was hovering over her on his elbows.

Pulling back from her long enough to tug his t-shirt over his head and drop it to the ground, amusement bubbled within him when Hermione pushed herself up with a concentrated frown on her face and her hands came up to the left side of his stomach, softly probing around the faded bruise he'd gotten when stopping the quaffle from passing through the hoops.

"Healer Granger?" Oliver said amused.

She looked up at him, her cheeks tinting a light pink and a sheepish smile pulling at her mouth. "Sorry, force of habit," she replied.

He snorted at her. "Actually, a was gunna say a think a need a _full_ body examination."

Her sheepish smile turned into a smirk and Oliver blinked in surprise when her eyes darkened with heat and mischief, far from being nervous and shy like he thought she would've been.

"Well, Captain Wood, as your healer it's my duty to make sure you're in _perfect_ health."

He couldn't help it; he gulped, actually being afraid that she might try to devour him with the way she was looking at him. Why did she make him so nervous?

She reached up and pulled him down and on top of her, her mouth claiming his and her tongue darting out to seek entrance. After granting her it, she rolled them both and shuffled until she was straddling him. She pulled back from him and he rose up, not wanting her to have done it so soon but she pressed him back down onto the mattress with a firm hand on his chest.

His eyes seemed to grow darker the longer she stared at him until she lowered her head and started nipping, licking, kissing and sucking at the skin of his neck and shoulders. Slowly, she moved lower, lavishing the same treatment on his chest and he couldn't help but curse when she unexpectedly pulled a nipple into her mouth, sucking and nibbling with her teeth, before moving onto the other. Once she was sure she'd teased him enough she continued on her path south, nipping and licking at his abs and stomach and he'd never been more surprised in his life when she slipped her hand beneath his clothing and wrapped it around his length.

A strangled sound that he'd never made before got caught in his throat and he clenched his hands into fists, his eyes remaining locked on hers. Despite there being a flush to her skin, she didn't look embarrassed or uncomfortable and she proved that when she shifted his clothing a little down his hips so his erection sprung.

Oliver got the feeling she'd done this before as her hand movements weren't clumsy or hesitant and she swiped at the head with her thumb, using the leaking liquid to make her hand better glide over him.

That same strangled sound left him when she lowered her head and without hesitation licked his length from base to tip and she slowly took him in her mouth. Oliver concluded she'd _definitely_ done this before.

He was torn between falling back onto the mattress and just enjoying it, and keeping himself raised so he could watch her; between fisting at the bedsheets and burying his hands in her wild curls; between telling her to stop and encouraging her to continue, especially when her hand worked at what she couldn't fit into her mouth, her other hand traced light and gentle circles on his hip and she looked up at him from under her lashes, watching his reaction.

He couldn't take it.

He reached out for her and pulled her back up his body, his breathing coming out in pants and his eyes wild with heat and desire.

"If a let ye continue this is all gunna be over very soon," he said huskily, a smug look taking up residence on her face and Oliver was going to enjoy showing her what his own mouth could.

He flipped them until she was lying beneath him and he wasted no time in mapping out the same route she had on his body, his tongue, mouth and teeth working at her skin and his hands moving to unclasp her bra and pulling it off when she arched her body against his. A moan fell from her when his mouth encased her nipple and his fingers moved to pay attention to the other and swapping not long after.

His mouth moved down her stomach, his tongue tracing the large scar until he reached the waistband of her pyjama shorts and she lifted her hips, giving him an invitation to remove them entirely. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, he pulled the soft fabric down her legs and over her feet before tossing them to the ground and he settled himself between her legs, his shoulders pushing them further apart and opening her wider for him.

He took in the sight of her glistening with arousal and her scent filled his nose as he leaned in closer, wrapped his arms around her thighs to keep her in place and his tongue darted out.

Her eyes left his and her head dropped back, a gasp leaving her mouth as he worked her over with his tongue, teeth and lips. The bedsheets were bunched tightly in her hands, her teeth sunk into her lip to prevent noise from escaping but failing, and he felt her thighs shaking in his hold. He didn't know her body all that well –and he planned on rectifying that- but it wasn't hard for him to understand she was very close to being sent over the edge, and he planned on doing so with only his mouth. And that happened not long later.

Her body arched up, a gasp tore from her and her thighs shook in his hold as he guided her through her orgasm. She sank back into the mattress, pants leaving her and her eyes closed tightly. Pulling back from her, he wiped at his mouth before climbing up her body.

He loomed over her, looking down at her until her eyes opened, getting caught in his gaze, his expression soft and caring. "As far as am concerned, am yer first," he spoke.

She nodded, her gaze holding his and showing him that she was completely comfortable and certain of what she wanted.

"You're my first," she agreed.

His eyes traced her beautiful, flushed features for a few more seconds and then he lowered his head and claimed her mouth in a kiss as he settled himself in the cradle of her thighs. It seemed she'd waited long enough as her hands came down to his bottoms, hooking her fingers into the waistband of both them and his underwear and pushing them down his hips.

He pulled away from her long enough to remove the final items of clothing and she pulled him back to her, kissing him once more. Her hand snaked between them, wrapping around his length and pulling a groan from him when she pumped her hand over him and then guided him to her entrance.

He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face in her neck, bestowing nips, licks and kisses to her soft skin. Knowing it was still probably going to hurt her a little, he was mindful to keep his movements slow as he eased his way into her, feeling her body gripping him tightly. She didn't let out a noise of pain but he did hear her breath hitch and once he was fully sheathed, he lifted his head to see her eyes closed and her biting at her lip. Sensing his gaze her eyes fluttered open, seeing his worried expression.

"I'm fine," she breathed out. "It doesn't so much as hurt, it's more of a feeling I'm not used to. You can move," she told him, wiggling her hips beneath him and his hands clenched into tight fists at the feel of her tightening around him.

Taking a breath, he ducked down to kiss her again and was slow and careful in his movements as he pulled his hips back and thrust forward, catching her gasp in his mouth. It wasn't much longer when the discomfort seemed to have vanished and Hermione's legs hooked around his hips and she began moving her hips against his, encouraging him to move faster and harder.

She pulled back from him and sank down into the mattress, moans and whimpers falling from her lips. Oliver looked down at her, seeing her flushed skin, her wild hair surrounding her in a halo, her parted mouth and her closed eyes. Feeling the way her thighs tightened about his hips, her nails dug into his back and shoulders, her body fluttering around him; this was the witch he was meant to be with.

A ragged gasp sounded from her and knowing she was close, he not only changed the angle of his hips to try and find that sweet spot to send her flying off the edge, but his hand snaked down between them to tend to her little bundle of nerves, and sure enough, it happened.

Her nails raked down his back as she arched into him, her walls gripping him tightly and a strangled gasp of his name falling from her lips. Knowing he probably wouldn't be successful as it was all too much to bear, he didn't bother trying to hold himself back and he let himself follow after her, finding his release as he buried his face against her neck and Hermione pulled him down on top of her, his weight pressing her into the mattress.

~000~000~000~

"Have ye ev'r been in love?" Oliver asked, breaking the silence in the room.

They laid cuddled together, Oliver spooning Hermione with his arm pillowed beneath her head and the other flung over her waist, his hand being held by hers as she fiddled and played with his fingers.

Hermione, being surprised with the question, paused in her actions and bit her lip in thought, wondering how to reply to that. It was one thing to admit to having feelings for someone, but to admit to _loving_ them was something else entirely, especially if you hadn't said those words to anyone that wasn't a family member.

"I didn't love Dean," she started. "We'd been out on a few dates and weren't together long enough for me to get to know him as a person, as someone I hadn't just gone to school with. Viktor, I adored him, I really did, but I never loved him. Deep down I knew it would never last between us; there were too many obstacles in the way: the language barrier, the distance, his fame and the war. We cared for each other, we learned from each other and we had fun, but we weren't designed to last, and any witch that ends up with him is lucky because he's a good man. Ron, I fancied myself in love with him, but I was a young, naive child back then and as I grew older I started to realise that we weren't a good match. Our tempers alone..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "There was a muggle boy, one of my neighbours actually. I had a bit of a crush on him when I was younger, but he was older than me and soon left for university. I don't even think he knew my name," she shrugged.

"Tha's all very interesting," he spoke, "But ye dinnae answer me question."

Hermione let out a sigh and nibbled at her lip. Well, she'd already taken one chance today and that hadn't blown up in her face, maybe it was time to take another and hope for the same result.

She shifted onto her back and turned her head, getting caught in his gaze.

"I've never been in love... Not until I met you."

His eyes widened and his breath hitched and he stared at her as the meaning of her words slowly sunk in.

His eyes closed and he took a deep breath before saying, "A've never been in love... Not until a met ye." She beamed at him, her eyes sparkling and her smile bright. "A've a question a want tae ask."

"And that is?"

"Hermione Granger, Reigning Champion an' Queen af Board Games, will ye be me girlfriend?"

"I meant what I said about relationships and the right wizard walking into my life, and as it turns out, that wizard is _you_. So, Oliver Wood, not yet a champion and Reigning Loser of Board Games, yes, I will be your girlfriend," she said, leaning closer to press a kiss to his mouth and Oliver let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding, a smile settling on his face.

"A hate tae have tae admit this, but a've never had an actual girlfriend." She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Honestly, befere ye a wisnae looking fer a relationship an' a never felt comfortable enough around a witch tae consider entering intae one. So technically, yer me first girlfriend."

"That's nothing for you to be ashamed of," she told him and Oliver felt relieved at hearing that. He'd been worried she'd think him to be a terrible person. "I imagine your career was a factor of that."

"Not a lot af people can handle me intense training schedule," he nodded.

"And those that can only want you for your fame and money, I get it," she said, and he knew she did; she was even more famous than he was. "And as you said before, you didn't feel comfortable enough with a witch or ready for a relationship and that's perfectly alright. I've no expectations of you. I just want you to be happy."

"In the time since meetin' ye, a've never been happier," he confessed.

She smiled at him softly. "The feeling's mutual," she assured him, pressing a kiss to his mouth before turning to face away from him and snuggling under the blanket a little more.

"A love ye, Damsel," Oliver muttered into her ear.

Hermione smiled, twining her fingers through his. "I love you, too, Knight."

~000~000~000~

**Sunday 31st January 1999**

When Oliver woke he was alone and the room was still dark with only a slither of moonlight shining through the gap in the curtains. Frowning, he reached over to feel the other side of his bed being cold, meaning Hermione had been gone a while.

He sat himself up and grabbed his wand, casting a charm to tell him the time and seeing that it was still early in the morning, so early that he'd barely had two hours sleep since he'd drifted off with Hermione in his arms and after confessing his love for her.

That had been a development he'd never expected, but he'd never been happier at that moment in time.

When she'd kissed him in the pool, he'd been flooded with feelings of shock and confusion but he hadn't allowed it to stop him from kissing her back, especially since he'd been wanting to do it since Christmas Eve. Hermione wasn't an impulsive person and she didn't do anything without thinking it through, so for her to kiss him the way she had, he'd known there was something else to it and for both their sakes, he'd been determined to find out the reasoning behind her actions. 

It had taken a little coaxing until she'd admitted her feelings for him and he'd never been more surprised and he'd never been happier. Hearing that the woman you loved reciprocated your feelings was one of the best feelings in the world, and now that they'd both finally stopped hiding from each other and she'd agreed to be his girlfriend, Oliver had every intention of making sure her life with him was happy.

He wanted to make her as happy as she made him. He wanted to show her that not all wizards were arseholes. He wanted to shower her with books and chicken pie and now he had a legitimate reason to be able to do that.

As he'd never been in a relationship before and he'd never felt for someone the way he felt for Hermione, he was worried he'd do something stupid that would ruin things between them. He didn't know the rules of dating; he didn't know what was expected of him now that he was in a relationship with her. He didn't know how he should or shouldn't behave or what was considered to be right and wrong. He was worried that he was at a disadvantage and he really didn't want to lose her now that she was finally his.

He thought about asking Hermione but didn't want to seem stupid, but he'd told her he'd never been in a relationship before and she'd said she had no expectations of him, so maybe he had nothing to worry about. Maybe he was just being paranoid and needed to give his head a good shake.

A faint noise caught his attention and deciding to go in search of Hermione, he climbed from beneath the blanket, stood from the bed and slipped on his discarded underwear before leaving his room, following the sound.

It led him downstairs and as he grew closer and the sound grew louder, he soon became aware of what it was and he stopped in his movements in surprise, before giving his head a shake and continuing in his steps until he reached his destination, coming to stop in the doorway and leaning against the door frame, taking in one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen.

Lit candles floated about the room, the firelight seeming to make Hermione's skin glow as she sat on the padded bench, her curls wild and tangled as they hung down her back, her body covered by an oversized Quidditch practice jersey and the navy blue contrasting against the pale skin of her thighs. Her eyes were closed, her head gently swaying and a soft, content smile on her face as her hands danced expertly over the keys of the grand piano.

The sweet, soft melody filled his ears and peace and comfort settled over him, his body relaxing as the music suddenly slowed, almost to a stop, and then played once more, the melody being quieter and softer than before.

He honestly didn't know how long he stood there silently watching her, but the melody seemed to be drawing to a close as it slowed and then gently tapered off into silence, Hermione's hands coming to a stop and her head bowing forward slightly.

"I know you're there," she spoke, startling him. She lifted her head and turned to look at him, her smile widening slightly.

"Ye said ye couldn't play," he said softly.

"No, you asked me if I _did_ play, not if I _could_ ," she corrected. He walked into the room, moving until he sat beside her on the padded bench. "I haven't been near a piano in years," she told him. 

"Why'd ye stop?"

A sad looked crossed her face, making him feel guilty and as though he shouldn't be prying into her personal business, but she answered him, bringing her hands away from the keys and setting them down in her lap.

"I stopped when my Grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. I just didn't want to play anymore. When she got better she tried to convince me not to give it up but I was teased a lot in school, and my cousins all used to make fun of me and I lost interest. Then I found out I was a witch and I did consider going back to it like my Grandmother had wanted and I did miss it, but then she died and her last wish was that I play at her funeral, she wanted my music to be the thing that sent her off into the afterlife, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I felt so ashamed of myself and I lost my inspiration and motivation," she said, looking down at the keys, her fingers moving to softly trail over the ivory.

"People think that books are my biggest love, but they're not. It's always been my music. That was my escape. I learned to play the piano before I learned to read, and when my Grandmother got sick and the bullying wouldn't stop, I guess I gave up on it," she said sadly. "I hadn't realised how much I missed playing, I hadn't realised how much of myself I lost until just now." She looked up at him, getting caught in his gaze. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Fer what?"

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "You're the reason I'm here. You're the reason I found the courage and motivation. I found my inspiration in you and you've brought music back into my life, and I don't know how I'm ever going to thank you for that."

Oliver was genuinely touched by her words and he was a little overwhelmed if he was being honest. He didn't know how to respond to that or if he should, so instead, he just leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead, pulling back to see a smile on her face and her closed eyes before they fluttered open.

"What was tha' ye were playing?" He asked.

"It's a piece written by Franz Liszt, a Hungarian composer and pianist from the 1800s. It's known as Love Dream."

"What's it aboot?"

"Passion and love," she answered. "It was written to symbolise the passion and love a person may have for someone or something, so maybe a profession or a place, maybe a lover or a family member."

"It was beautiful," he commented and he meant it. It really was. Listening to it had made him feel as though he were in a dream, as though he were flying through the clouds on his broom. It made him feel light and peaceful. "Will ye play it fer me?"

Hermione smiled and nodded, her hands lifting to the keys once more, her eyes closed and the soothing melody filling the room. He kept his eyes on her, watching at how the smile never wavered and her body was relaxed despite her perfect posture. He could've happily sat for hours and watched her play and he hoped that now she'd rediscovered her love for music, he'd get to do just that. Much sooner than he'd have liked, the melody came to an end and she turned to look at him.

He reached up, brushing her hair back from her face and she tilted her head, leaning into his touch with her eyes fluttering closed.

"Yer very good," he spoke.

Well, he assumed she was. He hadn't met many pianists, the only one being his old teacher when he was a kid and despite not being with her long, he couldn't remember her being able to play the way Hermione did.

She smiled at him. "As I said, I learned to play before I learned to read. I was a bit of a prodigy," she admitted. "Before I stopped playing, I was tipped to be offered scholarships to study at some of the best music schools in the world," she said and he blinked at that, completely surprised. "But even if that were the case, I still would've discovered I was a witch and my music would've had to take a back seat. I haven't played in eleven years and whilst I'm a little rusty, you never forget. It's like riding a bike, or flying a broom I should say."

"Tha's ye bein' rusty?" He asked disbelievingly. She laughed and nodded. "Bloody hell," he muttered. If she could play like that now, how would she play once she got back into it for real?

"Give me a couple of weeks and I should be up to par with my eight-year-old self."

"Yer gunna keep playing?"

"I'm going to keep playing," she nodded.

"Am glad tae hear tha'," he said. "It would be such a shame fer yer talent tae go tae waste, especially when there's a perfectly good piano waitin' tae be played."

She smiled. "I'm sorry for waking you," she said.

"Am glad ye did, a'd have never gotten tae witness yer playing otherwise," he replied, before reaching out to tug on the hem of the jersey she wore.

It was far too big for her; the sleeves she'd rolled up to her elbows, them likely having gotten in the way of her playing, and he suspected that when she stood it would fall somewhere between her knees and mid-thigh.

"Where'd ye get this?" He asked, despite already knowing.

She gave him a sheepish smile. "Your closet," she answered. "But it's very comfortable," she said, unrolling the sleeves to show they did fall past her hands and she wrapped her arms around herself. "And it's soft and warm, and it smells like you, too. You're going to have to get used to this, girlfriends steal their boyfriends' clothes all the time."

His mouth twitched at hearing her acknowledging their relationship. "A dinnae say a had a problem with it, a think it suits ye."

"Of course you do," she replied with a roll of her eyes. "After all, I literally have your name and jersey number scrawled across my back."

He smirked before reaching out to wrap his arms around her and pulling her into him. "There is somethin' satisfying aboot tha', am not gunna lie."

"Possessive are we?" She asked amused. He shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe I should get myself the rest of the team's jerseys, too, so then I can support all of them."

"Not happening," he said with a scowl.

She laughed. "Jealous are we?"

"Not usually," he answered. He'd never had a reason to be jealous before, but since meeting her he was becoming familiar with the emotion. "What aboot ye?"

"Not really," she shrugged. "I can deal with all the crazy fangirls, I did date Viktor after all, but if a woman were to say or do anything inappropriate, especially in front of me, then she's getting hexed."

His mouth twitched. "A think a like this side af ye."

"That's fortunate, with how bloody handsome you are I suspect it will be happening a lot."

He chuckled. "Well, the same goes fer ye. A man does or says somethin' inappropriate, a cannae promise a won't deck him one."

She laughed and shook her head. "Well, we should probably get some sleep but I'm in the mood for pancakes. You?"

"Chocolate chip?" He asked.

"Chocolate chip," she agreed, a squeal of surprise leaving her when he stood from the bench, bent down and hauled her up into his arms in the way that was familiar to them.

"I can walk," she said amused.

"Anno," he replied with an innocent smile.

She snorted as she felt his hand slip beneath the hem of the jersey to rest on her thigh. "I get it now," she shook her head.

They soon entered the kitchen and Oliver set Hermione down and quickly retrieved their wands from his bedroom, before filling the room with balls of light. It didn't take Hermione long to whip up a batch of pancakes, and after they found themselves sitting beside each other on the kitchen island as they silently ate their food, before the plates were sent to the sink.

"A wanted tae ask, hoo are ye feeling?"

She looked up at him and a smile pulled at her face. "Perfectly fine," she assured him. "I was a little overwhelmed with what's recently happened to us and I couldn't sleep, and I'm not sure how but I found myself sat at the piano and before I knew it, I was playing again. There's nothing for you to worry about," she said, laying her head to press against his shoulder and he took her hand in his, twining their fingers together.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," she spoke.

"Alright, what is it?" He asked, hearing the hesitation in her voice.

"We've both been through a lot lately, with my attack and me coming into your life, and now we've both admitted our feelings and we're together... I just, I wanted to know if you were okay with keeping things between us quiet... just for a little while."

When he didn't answer she looked up at him, seeing him looking down at the ground with a frown on his face.

"I'm not ashamed of you, Oliver," she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze and pulling his eyes up to her. "I could never be and will never be ashamed of you and I'll happily shout from the Coach's box my feelings for you... I just want to wait. I just want to be able to spend some time with you, to have you all to myself for a little while. You're forgetting who we are to the public."

"War heroine, Quidditch star," he said, his finger gesturing to each of them as understanding hit him.

"Yes, you may be Oliver to me, I'm Hermione to you, but to them we're celebrities, we're Britain's most eligible bachelor and bachelorette. You're you and I'm me. I'm sure you saw the media coverage on my breakup with Ron, it was terrible. When the press gets wind of our relationship you know they'll surround us like vultures and they won't leave us alone. And as for your fans, the crazy ones might take offence to you having a girlfriend. I dated Viktor Krum, and his fan girls attacked me and sent me hate mail for most of my fourth year in school, and that was school children. Can you imagine what fully grown witches might do?"

An unhappy look crossed his face before looking to her in worry, realising that she was right.

"I know the hype of it all will die down eventually but right now, after everything we've been through, I just want it to be us, just for a little while."

"Jus' us, a can see the point in tha'," he nodded. "We'll keep it quiet fer now."

"This means that you have to keep your hands to yourself whilst we're at work," she said amused. He scowled at that before a smile pulled at his face. "And don't even think about purposely getting injured as an excuse to see me," she said knowingly.

His smile widened. "A wouldn't do tha'," he replied and she raised an eyebrow. "A was thinkin' af faking an injury so a could get a quick snog in yer office."

She blinked at him before she burst into laughter, leaning against him for support and her laughter set him off, too.

"Alright, maybe once or twice, but be careful," she said amused.

He grinned at her. "A knew ye were perfect fer mae."

"Hmmm," she hummed. "I can't cook, you can't bake."

"Ye canne swim or fly, an' a can."

"Quidditch scares the hell out of me, and you love it."

"A get injured, an' ye fix mae," he said and she snorted.

"People can understand what I'm saying, you not so..." she trailed off with a laugh when he pinched her side in warning.

"A fergot tae mention, befere ye got home me da visited. Me ma's got an appointment with Dr. Clay on Wednesday..."

"I'll be there," she interrupted and he smiled. "Now, we really should get some sleep," she said, hopping down from the kitchen island, banishing the balls of light and pulling him back to his bedroom.

They climbed into bed and Oliver pulled her to him, wrapping her up in his arms and hearing her let out a little sigh as she snuggled against him.

"Damsel?" He said quietly.

"Hmmm?" She hummed tiredly.

He bit his lip, wondering if what he was about to ask her was a good idea or if he was simply getting ahead of himself and he should wait.

"What is it?" She asked, lifting her head to look at him when he hadn't spoken for a little while.

Shaking his head of his thoughts, he looked down at her. "A've never been in a relationship but even a know this is a big step tae take...."

"Yes?"

He took a breath and gathered his Gryffindor courage. "Do ye want tae move in with mae?"

"What?" She asked, her surprise evident in the widening of her eyes.

"Do ye want tae move in with mae?" He repeated. "A mean, ye live here anyway, right? Yer already me roommate so nothin' will really change, except ye maybe sleep in here with mae instead. If ye don' wanna move ye clothes an' things oot af yer room, ye can leave them there an' turn it intae a dressing room."

She nibbled at her lip in thought. "You're right, that _is_ a big step," she said, and Oliver felt disappointment setting in until she spoke again. "And I _do_ already live here so nothing will really change. We do love each other, right?"

"Right," he said instantly.

"And people that love each other do tend to move in together, and as it is, we've been living together for months now and I'm already used to your habits and mannerisms, so there's going to be no surprises on that front. We'll probably end up falling asleep with each other now anyway, especially since I always seem to sleep better when you're with me. So the way I see it, the only logical option would be to _move_ in together." Oliver's face pulled into a wide grin. "But we may have to do something about this room?" She said, looking about in the darkness.

"What's wrong with it?" He frowned.

"Not enough midnight blue, and it could do with a Puddlemere logo or two," she replied.

His smile quickly found its way back onto his face and he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers.

"Am gunna make ye an entire batch af chicken pies," he muttered against her mouth.

She let out a pleased groan. "Guess that means I'm baking chocolate chip cookies. And now that I'm officially your girlfriend that lives with you," she said, making him smile, "You should probably order some more jerseys, because I swear, half of them are mine now."

He laughed and buried his face in her hair.

"I'm not joking."

~000~000~000~

"Bobby?" Oliver questioned in surprise, coming to a stop as he stepped into the kitchen and seeing the little elf levitating items of food and a pot of tea onto a tray, not to mention, Merlin was sat beneath the kitchen table and eating what looked to be sausages and bacon.

"Master Oliver," he replied with a bow.

"What are ye doin?"

"Bobby brings Master ands the Miss breakfasts in bed," he said with a smile.

Oliver blinked slowly. Bobby never made breakfast. Ever!

Oliver knew he and Hermione had slept late, so late that it was actually lunchtime, but given how late they'd been up neither of them had felt bad about sleeping through the morning, especially when they'd planned to just lounge about in bed all day.

"Why?"

"Bobby happys the Master and the Miss bes together. Bobby beens waiting a long time."

Oliver frowned in confusion.

"Bobby? When Hermione first got here, why did ye answer her calls? She's not yer mistress."

Bobby beamed a smile and much to Oliver's confusion and surprise, his cheeks flushed pink and he rocked on the balls of his feet as if he was unable to contain his happiness.

"Bobby knows Master, Bobby knows the Miss bes his mistress the first time Bobby saws her."

"What?" Oliver blurted out.

Bobby's grin widened. "Elves be knowing things, Master. Elves be knowing when they be getting a new master or mistress. Bobby knows Master will marry the Miss. Bobby knows the Miss bes his mistress. Bobby be answering the Miss 'coz his magic knows she bes his mistress."

"Ye think am gunna marry Hermione?" He asked slowly, trying to process it all.

"No, Master," Bobby beamed. "Bobby _knows_ Master will marry the Miss. Bobby's magic knows."

"Wh..." Oliver trailed off, not only because he wasn't sure how to actually reply to that, but because Bobby closed the distance between them and flung himself at him, wrapping his arms around his legs and sobbing loudly.

"Bobby, please stop cryin'," Oliver spoke. "If Hermione hears, she'll think a've done somethin' tae upset ye an' she'll throw a fit."

Bobby pulled back and sniffled, wiping his face on his pillowcase.

"Bobby bes happy the Master and Miss be happy. Bobby not like it when they not knows about each other."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Right, Bobby, let mae get this straight," he started, looking over his shoulder to make sure Hermione wasn't behind him or in hearing distance. "Yer sayin' tha' ye know am gunna marry Hermione?"

"Yes, Master. Bobby's elf magic tells him. Bobby knows Master and the Miss be loving each other. Bobby knows she be Mistress of the Manor. Bobby's elf magic not lie. All elves knows these things, and elves are never wrong."

Oliver took a deep breath and shook his head, feeling a headache forming.

"Alright, Bobby, a believe ye," he muttered. "Thank ye fer making us breakfast but a'll take it tae her. An' unless it's an emergency please don' disturb us fer the rest af the day, if we have visitors, tell them am not in."

"Yes, Master Oliver," he replied with a bow before he disappeared from view.

Oliver moved over to the tray on the counter and busied himself with putting the remainder of the food items on it, whilst processing what he'd just learned.

Hell, he hadn't been expecting that!

But he did trust Bobby and his words. It was a well-known fact elfin magic was powerful in its own right, and it would certainly make sense for them to be able to sense or feel when they were getting a new master or mistress, that way they were prepared and wouldn't accidentally insult and make a bad impression on him or her before they officially joined the family.

To learn that Bobby _knew_ he would someday marry Hermione and make her Lady Wood –once his mother and father passed, that is- was a shock to his system. Of course, he wasn't opposed to the idea, any man that had Hermione Granger's heart was incredibly lucky and she was an exceptional witch and would someday be a wonderful wife, but they'd only just started dating and despite her agreeing to move in with him so soon, marriage was an even bigger step, especially since children usually came after it.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought of what Hermione would be like as a mother; he'd seen the way she interacted with the children from the orphanage, he'd seen the way they children adored her and he'd seen the way she'd handled little baby Timmy like a pro, so he knew she'd been great at it, just like everything else she did.

And now that he was reminded of her and the way she'd been with Timmy, he couldn't stop the image of Hermione sitting in the library as she read aloud to the little baby boy in her arms from entering his mind. He couldn't stop thinking of a little boy with curly brown hair and brown eyes flying about on a training broom whilst Hermione watched worriedly and held a newborn baby in her arms. He couldn't stop thinking of Hermione being sat at the grand piano, a young boy and a little girl sat on either side of her as she taught them how to play, and with one hand pressed against her swollen stomach.

"Bloody hell," Oliver sighed, shaking his head. Picking up the tray and seeing that Merlin had finished eating, he said. "Come on, Merlin, let's go have cuddles with yer ma."

The large dog barked in response and darted out from beneath the table and out of the kitchen, loud laughter soon echoing through the manor.

"A suppose a better keep an eye oot fer a bloody ring," he muttered, as he made his way towards his bedroom with the tray in hand, Hermione's laughter and Merlin's barks waiting for him. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

**Wood Estate – Monday 1st February 1999**

“Mornin’,”

A smile pulled at Hermione’s mouth when arms wrapped around her and she leaned back, tilting her head slightly when a kiss was pressed to her cheek.

She honestly couldn’t believe the direction her life had taken. In as little as a few hours, she’d released all of her bottled-up emotions and landed herself Oliver Wood not only as a boyfriend but as someone she loved, someone she truly trusted and felt safe with. Someone she knew would treat her with kindness and respect.

And not only did she now have a boyfriend, but he’d given her the inspiration and courage she needed to return to her music. He’d brought it back into her life after she’d given up on it and she’d never been more grateful. Before books and knowledge, music had been her passion and giving it up had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but it had been even harder to return to it and she’d never been able to. She never in her wildest dreams thought she’d find her way back to it, especially because of a man and she knew she was a lucky woman to be loved and inspired by Oliver Wood.

In some ways, she was grateful for what happened to her. Yes, it was horrific and they truly deserved to be punished for they did to her, and although they’d affected her life so negatively afterwards and she knew she’d never truly forget what they’d done to her and what they’d put her through, if it had never happened Oliver would’ve never been brought into her life. If it hadn’t have happened, she’d have never fallen in love or been as happy as she was now. She truly believed that she’d found someone she could spend the rest of her life with, despite being so young, she believed it. She felt it.

“Morning,” she replied. “I see you finally got up,” she said amused.

She felt him shrug his shoulders. “After ten minutes a knew ye weren’t gunna come back tae bed, so there was naw point in staying. Are ye sure a cannae convince ye tae stay home? We can jus’ owl the stadium an’ tell them we’re sick.”

She snorted at him. “I never thought I’d see the day Oliver Wood willingly took a day off work,” she said. “And, no, you can’t convince me. They’ll find it suspicious that you’re suddenly ill and not well enough to go to the stadium and likely send someone to check up on you. Not to mention, if I’m off on the exact same day, too. I don’t have a specific work schedule but given I’ve been there nearly every day these last few weeks, they may find it suspicious if we’re both not there. You must’ve noticed that they watch us when we’re together, despite the fact we’re careful when interacting with each other.”

“They’ve been like tha’ since ye turned up at the stadium an’ had Dodd fired. They think a’ve got a secret girlfriend an’ have fer months,” he responded.

She chuckled. “Well now you have and for the time being we need to be careful. So don’t be faking injuries too often or they’ll pick up on it, especially if you seem to be getting _injured_ more often than usual.”

“A can use the bathroom excuse, tae,” he said.

“Ben told me your obsession with the sport is so bad you don’t take bathroom breaks during training hours, only at lunch.”

“Damn, Malloy,” he muttered and she laughed at him. “A’ll think af somethin’ else,” he promised and she snorted.

“I don’t doubt you will.”

“So, what do ye want tae do tanight?”

“What’d you mean?” She asked, briefly looking up at him over her shoulder before flipping the bacon over in the pan.

“Now tha’ we’re tagether, a want tae take ye on an official date. Show ye hoo a wizard should treat a witch,” he answered.

“That’s sweet of you, but you don’t have to take me on a date. I think I’ve been on enough to last me a life time.”

“Tha’ probably true, but a’d still like tae take ye somewhere.”

“You know I don’t mind just staying in, right?”

“Anno,” he responded. “But a quite like the idea af wining and dining ya socks aff.”

“Just my socks?” She asked amused.

“An’ the rest af ye clothes,” he admitted and she laughed at him.

“You know, a witch much prefers a man to cook her dinner rather than buy her it. It’s more personal and romantic, it shows they care enough to take the time and put in the effort.”

“A cook fer ye all the time,” he said.

“Only because I’m rubbish at it and if I were to cook I’d give us both food poisoning,” she pointed out and he snorted. “But you seem to be adamant about taking me out,” she noted.

“Aye,” he nodded. “Been thinkin’ aboot it fer a while,” he admitted. “But ye don’ have tae worry, anno ye wanna keep us quiet fer the time bein’, but not only have we been goin’ oot in public tagether fer months an’ naw one’s spotted us tagether, a plan on takin’ ye somewhere naw one will recognise us.”

She looked up at him. “Okay, now I’m intrigued,” she said. “If I agree to this date, what’s the dress code?” He gave her a dazzling smile that briefly made her dizzy.

“Dress tae the nines, it’s a bit af a posh do,” he answered. “Anno ye don’ care aboot all tha’ but fer our first official date, a’m gunna spoil ya, an’ yer not paying a knut.” She opened her mouth to respond, but he didn’t allow it. “Nope, yer not paying a knut,” he repeated.

She scowled but otherwise nodded. “Fine, I should probably leave work early so I have time to wrestle my hair into submission.”

He snorted. “A like yer hair,” he said, reaching up to tug on the curl that had sprung free of her pony tail.

“You may, but I can’t imagine the other diners being so fond of it,” she replied. “Will you grab the brownies from the oven?” She asked. “You boys work too hard and so I thought I’d bake you all a little treat.”

“On it,” he said.

Pressing a kiss to her cheek, he did as she asked, unwrapping his arms from around her, grabbing a tea towel and removing the brownies from the oven, setting them down on the counter and seeing she’d made more than enough for the team twice over, even with their appetites which had only seemed to have grown upon discovering Hermione was an avid baker as she often brought them in treats.

Once they both sat at the table, they chatted comfortably and quickly ate their breakfast until they were finished, Oliver busied himself with putting the dishes in the sink to be later washed and Hermione set to packing the brownies into Tupperware tubs.

Once done, they both headed for the fireplace with Merlin following behind them. Hermione reached for some floo powder only Oliver stopped her from doing so when he reached out, pulled her into him and crashed his mouth against hers.

She let out a noise of surprise but wrapped her arms around him, her hands clutching at his jumper and winding into his hair to tug at the strands. He kissed her until she forgot about everything but him, until it was getting harder to breathe, until she felt herself being lifted off the ground and her legs wrapped around his waist.

Rather reluctantly she pulled back from him, her eyes opening to see that he was looking at her with dark eyes. She realised her back was against the wall, not remembering him even backing her up to it and with her legs wrapped about his waist, she was glad it was still winter and she was wearing jeans. If she’d been wearing a dress or skirt, she was sure she’d crumble and give in, agreeing to pull a sicky so they could stay home all day and get lost in each other.

“One fer the road,” he grinned, putting her back on her feet and smirking when she sagged back into the wall when he stepped away from her, seeing her glassy-eyed expression, her rumpled appearance and her messy hair. He reached for the floo powder and stepped into the floo, leaving Hermione behind.

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

Stepping out of the floo at the stadium, Oliver chuckled to himself and ran a hand through his hair, trying to tidy it up a little so one had reason to be suspicious, but he barely made it down the corridor when his teammates came out of nowhere, surrounding him.

“Hey, Cap,” Pallie said, throwing his arm over his shoulders. “Why the good mood?”

“Good mood?” He said. “Am always in a good mood,” he denied.

“Yeah right,” Thompson muttered and Oliver sent him a glare.

“’Course you are,” Pallie smiled. “But this morning you seem to be awfully cheery. What’s the cause?”

“A don’ know what yer talking aboot,” Oliver muttered, shrugging Pallie’s arm off him.

Just then the floo roared to life and Hermione and Merlin both stepped out, Hermione brushing herself down and Merlin coming over to greet the gathered players. Of course he went straight to Oliver and jumped up at him, earning raised eyebrows from the others but they soon turned their attention to Hermione, and he could see why.

Her cheeks were still flushed, her breathing a little heavier than usual, her robes and shirt still a little rumpled and her hair was no longer restrained by a bobble but spilling down her shoulders in messier than usual curls.

“Hey, Hermione,” Thompson smiled innocently. “Why so flushed?”

Hermione stopped in her movements, looking up at them as if just realising they were there. Her eyes instantly sought him out before her cheeks flamed darker and she turned her eyes to Thompson.

She cleared her throat. “Just had a bit of a morning workout.”

“Work out?” Bishop asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, I’ve made it my new year’s resolution to be a bit healthier and work out more,” she replied and her eyes briefly flickered to him and he found it very hard to hide his knowing smirk. He knew what she meant by _work out_ and he was in full support of it. “I went for a jog this morning and realising I was going to be late, I found myself running home. Hence the flushed expression and breathlessness.”

“And your hair?” Wilks asked.

“It’s windy, it fell out of my bobble.”

“Your clothing? Who goes jogging in jeans and a blouse?” Kings asked with a raised eyebrow.

Hermione’s eyes widened in panic. “I made brownies!” She called, pulling the Tupperware tub from her pocket as evidence.

That did the trick and their attention immediately went to the brownies in her hand. Pallie darted forward and took them from her before anyone else could and he ran down the corridor like a child that’s just been asked to share his sweets. The team were quick on his heels chasing after him, all shouting at him for not sharing as he shoved a brownie into his mouth without stopping and then he went for a second one.

Hermione let out a breath of relief and he chuckled. She turned her eyes to him at the sound and she scowled at him. Annoying her further, he sent her a wink as he turned and headed down the corridor, hearing her huff of outrage and Merlin’s paws against the floor as he followed at his side.

~000~000~000~

Hermione’s morning had been very quiet. No one had been injured or fake injured and she’d spent the morning in her office, doing some research for a case she was working on as St. Mungo’s had contacted her the day before about a new patient. Not only had she not had any visitors, but Merlin had been with the team all morning and not having him as a distraction allowed her to get on with her work. But whilst she didn’t have him, thoughts of Oliver and what he’d done to her that morning kept slipping to the front of her mind and would distract her before she forced herself to focus.

A sudden knock on the treatment bay door sounded and she stood from her desk, calling for her visitor to enter as she stepped from her office and into the room, getting a surprise when not one, but two people walked in.

She knew their injuries weren’t serious seeing as they’d walked to her office and she’d not been sent for, but still, seeing two injured players was different for her. But then again, one of them was Oliver and he sent her an innocent smile when she looked up at him.

“What happened?” She asked, slipping into healer mode and gesturing for her visitors to each take a seat on the examination tables. “Tony, we’ll start with you,” she said to the redhead.

“Hurt my wrist,” he answered, holding out his left wrist for her to exam. “Bludger was a lot faster than usual and I didn’t have chance to adjust my grip on the bat. I hit it at the wrong angle.”

She gently took his wrist in her hand and hummed as she pulled her wand and cast diagnostic charms.

“It’s not broken,” she told him. “Just a sprain and it can be fixed easily,” she said, muttering beneath her breath with her wand pressed against his wrist. “How does it feel?” She asked, releasing him and stepping back.

“Perfect,” he replied, rolling his wrist this way and that, testing it out.

“Great, just wait fifteen minutes before you get back in the air. The spell can sometimes have side effects and I don’t want it happening when you’re on your broom.”

“Fifteen minutes, got it,” he nodded, hopping down from the examination table and leaving the room, closing the door behind him.

The moment he was gone she moved over to Oliver, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “So, what _injury_ do you have?”

He grinned at her and she sighed, reaching out to slap at his right shoulder and he let out a wince.

“Actually, a really do have an injury, dinnae even do it on purpose either. Bludger hit me shoulder,” he said.

Her eyes widened and she jumped forward. “What! Merlin, why didn’t you tell me?” She spoke, her voice rising and she slapped at his other arm, making him chuckle. “Shirt off, come on, quickly,” she instructed.

“A knew ye only wanted mae fer me body,” he teased.

She scowled and reached out to slap at his right shoulder, he winced, knowing she hadn’t forgotten which one was the injured one and she’d done it on purpose. Quickly, as to not entice her to injure him further, he slipped his right arm out of his jumper and lifted it to show her his shoulder.

She frowned, her hand coming up to probe around the wound. “It doesn’t actually look that bad,” she mused. “I’ve certainly seen worse, and I don’t think there’s any broken bones either.” She said, waving her wand over his arm and muttering beneath her breath before she nodded to herself, stepped back and went over to the potions cabinet. “It looks as though it just skimmed your shoulder rather than hitting it head on.”

“Aye,” he nodded. “A saw it quick enough tha’ a was able tae dodge it,” he confirmed.

“Shouldn’t take too long to heal,” she said, coming over to him with a familiar-looking cream, before she placed it on and around the bruise and then covered it with some gauze and a bandage. “I reckon a couple of days and then it’ll be fine.”

She stepped away from him to put the cream away and wash her hands and then she turned to face him, seeing him readjusting his Quidditch jumper.

“There’s not a fly ban for you, you can get straight back on your broom and you’ll be fine. Off you go,” she said, nodding to the door.

He smirked at her. “Tryin’ tae get rid af mae, are we?”

“Yes, that’s why I told you to get out,” she replied.

He snorted at her and stood from the examination table, crossing over to her until he stood in front of her and he reached out, wrapping his arms around her and pulled her into him, her hands coming up to press against his chest. He lowered his head to kiss her but she pulled back.

“We’ll get caught,” she said.

“We won’t,” he promised. “Naw one will come in here withoot knocking first. Not only is it impolite, but if they don’ there’s naw telling what they’ll walk in tae. Imagine someone having a splinter in their arse from a cracked broom an’ ye having tae remove it. Now tha’s a sight tha’ will traumatise both ye an’ the idiot tha’ dinnae knock first.”

She laughed at him, shaking her head. “Fine, just a quick snog and then you have to go or they’ll get suspicious. They’ll have seen you getting hit with a bludger and they know it doesn’t take long for me to treat an injury like that.”

He grinned down at her before lowering his head and pressing his lips against hers, Hermione letting out a sigh when he pulled her firmly against him and she bunched her hands into his jumper, trying to keep them out of his hair should someone notice how messy it was.

He kissed her until she was breathless and when she pulled away from him, she honestly didn’t know how it had happened and was more than surprised to see that she was laid on the examination table and Oliver was kneeling between her legs, holding himself up on his hands placed on either side of her head. She blinked, looking around in confusion and he smirked down at her. How the hell hadn’t she noticed that happening?

“Someday am gunna convince ye tae let mae have ye here,” he told her confidently.

“I don’t think so,” she scoffed.

“A will,” he nodded. “The building’s got rubbish security, we could always sneak in late at night or on a Sunday when naw one’s here. We don’ even have tae break in giving our full access passes.”

“Not happening,”

“We’ll see,” he replied, before climbing down off the table and Hermione sat up, readjusting her robes. “A’ll probably see ye at home, then?”

She nodded. “Yep, I’m leaving early so I better take Merlin with me.”

He snorted. “If ye can get him away from the team tha’ is,” he replied amused. “A’ll see ye later,” he said, placing a kiss to her mouth before leaving out the room and closing the door behind him.

Hermione let out a sigh and flopped back down onto the table. “He’s going to be the death of me,” she muttered.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Hermione stood in her bathroom, looking at her reflection in the mirror. After leaving the stadium early and dropping Merlin off at home, she’d headed straight into Diagon Alley in need of a new dress. Not only had she already worn all of her date appropriate dresses previously, she didn’t want to re-wear a dress on her date with Oliver.

She hated to admit it as she usually didn’t care about her appearance, but she’d spent two hours searching for the right dress. Oliver may have been taking her somewhere they wouldn’t be recognised, or so he said, but she wanted to make sure she didn’t embarrass him or herself by turning up in a previously worn and non-appropriate dress.

After returning home she made the decision to ready in her own room and use her own bathroom in case she wasn’t finished by the time Oliver returned from training, as she knew he’d want to dress and ready, too, and she wanted her new dress to be a surprise for him.

But not only had she bought herself a new dress, she’d gone to the hairdressers, too, something she hadn’t done in a long time. She’d spent more time there than she did looking for a dress and it had made her grateful of the fact she’d left the stadium at lunchtime. The hairdresser -a flamboyant Italian man that had berated her for the state of her hair- had chopped off all of her dead and split ends, gave her hair a deep conditioning and styled it into an elegant up-do, and he’d earned every penny she’d been charged, whilst also making her promise to not go so long without visiting again.

Taking a bath had been difficult even with the charms she’d placed on her hair to not only keep it in place, but to protect it from the steam of the hat water. She’d put as many lotions and bath bombs as she’d dared into the water and took a few minutes to relax and enjoy the hot water being heavenly on her tense muscles, before she set to work scrubbing her body clean and shaving her underarms and legs until her skin was smooth.

After getting out of the bath and drying off, she applied more lotions to her skin and then slipped on her dress, being thankful that there were no buttons and the zip was at the side and not the back. She’d slipped on a little jewellery and her heels, before applying a small amount of makeup and she stood in the mirror, scrutinising herself, though she really didn’t have time to make any changes as she’d heard Oliver arrive home nearly half an hour ago and knowing him, he was probably already ready and waiting for her.

The dress she’d bought was navy blue, it being not only her favourite colour but Oliver’s, too. The dark silky fabric not only contrasted against her pale skin, but fit to her frame perfectly, flaring out at the waist slightly and falling down to the ground. The features of the dress being off the shoulder cap sleeves and having a sweetheart neckline combined with her hair being up, all showed off the pale skin of her shoulders, her neck and collar bones as well as a small amount of cleavage that wasn’t too revealing. When she moved her golden heels and her right leg were revealed by the split up the thigh, and the golden bangles and simple locket she wore around her neck completed the look. Makeup wise she’d only added a small amount of mascara to lengthen and darken her lashers, a little nude shimmer eye shadow and a clear coat of gloss on her lips.

Knowing she really couldn’t make Oliver wait any longer, she accepted there was nothing more she could do and she turned away from the mirror and left out the room, her heels echoing in the large manor as she made for the living room.

Oliver was stood at the windows, looking out over the grounds of the manor with one hand in his pocket and the other holding a tumbler of untouched fire whiskey. Hearing her approaching he turned away from the windows with a smile on his face, it soon dropping as his eyes widened and his mouth parted, much like it had the night of The Malfoy’s Christmas Ball. In fact, he almost dropped his fire whiskey, making her giggle.

She looked him over and he looked as handsome as always. He seemed to favour muggle attire as he was once again wearing a black tux, a white shirt beneath the buttoned jacket and seeing him wearing a bow tie let her know that wherever he was taking her really was fancy and she hadn’t overdressed.

She came to a stop in front of him, her heels putting her closer to his height than usual so she didn’t have to tilt her head to look up at him, and the way he was staring at her had a blush covering her cheeks.

“Ye look stunning,” he complimented.

Despite the heat to her cheeks she smiled and placed her hand in his when he held his out to her, bending and pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you, you look quite dashing yourself,” she smiled.

“Navy blue an’ yellow?” He questioned with a quirk of his mouth.

“Puddlemere,” she confirmed and he looked amused, but leaned forward to kiss her. Seeing her gloss covered lips and thinking better of it, he pressed a kiss to her cheek instead. “Smart man,” she praised. “Never smear a witch’s lip gloss, she’ll hex you.” He chuckled at her. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Tha’s a surprise,” he replied. “An’ we better get goin, don’ worry aboot needing a cloak, we’re flooing straight there.”

Feeling curious, Oliver slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and he guided her over to the fireplace after depositing his still untouched tumbler on the bar. Grabbing some floo powder, Oliver called out an address she didn’t recognise and the flames overtook them.

~000~000~000~

**Paris, France**

Stepping out of the floo –which Hermione noted had taken a little longer than usual to arrive at their destination- Hermione’s eyes took in the sight of the dim lighting in the room, the gold patterned wallpaper, the high ceilings and the beautiful chandeliers that hung from above. Golden drapes hung from the windows and were pulled back to show the views surrounding them but at the angle and position she was stood, she couldn’t see where they were or what was outside.

From what she could see, there weren’t that many tables in the large room and they were spaced out in such a way that not only allowed for easy movement about the room, but gave the feel of complete privacy, as if you and your date were the only ones present. By her count there were no more than fifteen tables and each were covered with white table cloths, had a beautiful centrepiece and two comfortable looking chairs.

As Oliver guided her forward with a hand on the small of her back and the other holding hers delicately, even wearing shoes she could feel how soft the patterned carpet was and the temperature in the restaurant was perfect, not too hot and not too cold. As they neared what she thought was the checking-in station she noticed the soft and quiet sounds of music, a violin and a harp, she thought.

They stopped by the podium, the twenty-something wizard with dark hair and bright green eyes looking up and firstly going to her, his eyes widening in surprise.

Hermione felt her breath leave her. He bloody recognised her!

The urge to whack Oliver was strong but she refrained when he turned his eyes to Oliver and they widened even further.

“Bonjour, Monsieur Wood,” he spoke, his accent not so thick that you couldn’t understand him, but certainly enough that she believed she knew what cuisine she’d be eating that night.

“Good evening, Raphael,” Oliver replied with a nod of his head.

Hermione looked at him curiously. How did he know his name? And now that she thought of it, why had the wizard addressed Oliver with such familiarity? Was she not the first witch he’d brought here before? She felt jealously flare-up within her and squashed it down. Hermione Granger didn’t do jealousy.

“Has ev’rything been prepared as requested?”

“Qui, it has, please, if you will just follow me, I’ll take you to your table,” the French man spoke.

He stepped out behind the podium and led the way, Oliver once more guiding her forward and as they crossed the room, Hermione was aware of there being other diners present. When she’d first seen the room she’d believed the tables to have been unoccupied but as she walked past them she realised they were merely charmed to give them privacy and they could only be seen whilst walking past.

Shaking her head, they came to a stop at a table that sat right in front of one the large floor to ceiling windows and before she could have chance to be nosy and try and figure out where they were, Oliver was pulling her chair out and helping her to sit, before pushing her in and crossing to take his own seat.

“Louis will be with you shortly,” the wizard said, handing Oliver a menu and then Hermione.

“Thank ye, Raphael,” Oliver replied, nodding to the wizard and he turned and left them alone.

Hermione took a moment to look over the menu, noticing that it was all in French and she couldn’t understand a word of it.

“Cannae read it?” Oliver chuckled, obviously seeing her puzzled expression.

“Not a clue what it says,” she admitted. “Can you read it?” She asked curiously, wondering if he spoke French and she’d had no idea.

“Not a word,” he told her and she laughed at him. “If ye tap the top left corner af the menu three times, it’ll translate it tae English fer ye.”

Hermione eyed him curiously before doing as he said and he was right, the words before her suddenly becoming legible and she looked up at him suspiciously. How did he know that?

“Ye have naw reason tae be suspicious, Damsel,” Oliver spoke softly, apparently seeing her expression. “Yer the first non-related witch a’ve brought here. In fact, a’ve only visited with me parents,” he said.

Hermione was a little ashamed of herself that she seemed to relax at his words, knowing that he wasn’t lying to her. Her eyes finally moved to the window and when she looked out they widened and she almost dropped the menu when the view of the Eiffel Tower met her sight. That wasn’t a replica. It was the actual Eiffel Tower! And it was lit up beautifully, shining brightly in the dark of the night with the stars high above it.

He’d not only taken her to a fancy French restaurant, but to bloody France!

He chuckled at her. “A guess the surprise is ruined now,” he said, drawing her attention. She tried to speak but couldn’t find the words and he chuckled once more. “A should’ve told Raphael tae give us a table withoot a view. A had planned on takin’ ye up the tower after dinner.”

“You brought me to Paris? On a first date?” She finally managed to speak.

He smiled and nodded. “Paris is the City af Love, right? Where else would a take the witch tha’ has me heart? An’ dinnae ye mention tha’ ye’d always wanted tae visit Paris?”

Hermione had never been more surprised, she’d never felt so touched or overwhelmed and she’d never felt such love for one person. She could feel her eyes tearing up and his smile dropped from his face.

“Should a not have brought ye here?” He asked frowning.

She shook her head and took a deep breath, reaching over the table to take his hand in hers.

“No,” she said quietly, trying to calm herself. “I’m just a little a overwhelmed that you’ve gone to so much trouble for me, that you’ve done something so thoughtful.”

His smile returned and he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “It was naw trouble, yer worth it. A witch like ye is hard tae find an’ when ye do, ye do ev’rything ye can tae make sure she knows what she’s worth, tha’ she knows hoo special she is.”

“Oh God! I’m going to cry,” she whispered, taking a breath and breathing out slowly. He chuckled at her and gave her hand another squeeze. “If this is our first date, what do you have planned for future dates?”

He smiled. “Ye ever been tae Italy?” He asked. She spluttered. “Hoo aboot Greece? Berlin? Brazil?”

“I’m going to have a heart attack,” she breathed slowly and he laughed. “Have you?”

“Aye,” he nodded. “A visited with me parents when a was still in Hogwarts. It was the only thing they could do tae manage me Quidditch obsession,” he said amused. “Ye feeling alright?” He asked, seeing that she looked a little queasy.

She nodded. “Fine, just need a minute to process the fact I’m in Paris, sat at a table with the view of the Eiffel Tower, and I need to wrap my head around the idea of you dragging me off to cities and countries I’ve only ever dreamed of visiting.”

“Ye don’ have long, the waiter’s comin’ over.”

She looked down at her menu, her eyes scanning her options. “If I order steak, will you call me fat?” She asked, looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

He snorted at her. “If ye order steak, then a am tae,” he responded. “The steak here is some af the best a’ve ever eaten.”

“Really? Giving your talent, that’s high praise indeed.”

His mouth twitched in amusement at the fact she refused to believe that anyone else’s cooking was better than his, even if the food was made by a world-renowned chef.

“Do ye prefer muggle or elf wine? They serve both here.”

She looked surprised but answered, “Elf wine.”

When the waiter stopped by their table he took Hermione’s order of duck pate and Oliver’s order of mushroom and mussel tart as an appetizer, and then took their orders of steak with a creamy cognac sauce, green beans and boiled potatoes for a main.

When their elf wine was brought to them and poured, Hermione sipped from her glass with her eyes watching out the window, seeing the Parisians and tourists mulling about but being so far away they looked like ants.

“You never told me the name of this place,” Hermione mused.

“Amour,” he answered and Hermione nearly choked on her elf wine and she set it down on the table.

“Amour? _The_ _Amour_? One of the most world-renowned restaurants in both the Muggle and Wizarding World? That Amour?”

“Aye, tha’ one,” he nodded, clearly amused.

“How the hell did you get a reservation so quickly? I’ve read about this place, there’s a waiting list of three months. It’s one of the most successful restaurants to date, and it’s only been open for four years. And while we’re on the subject, Raphael? He recognised us, of course he did, but when he looked at you it wasn’t just familiar, it was fearful. Like he might lose his job fearful.”

“Yer tae observant fer yer own good,” he shook his head with a smile. “A suppose a better let the cat oot af the bag.”

“Before I have a heart attack, I’d appreciate it.”

He snorted at her. “Am a silent partner.”

“What?” She blurted out.

“Am a silent partner,” he repeated amused. “A own a third af the restaurant.”

“What?”

He chuckled at her. “It was me parents gift fer me eighteenth birthday. A wizard they’d gone tae school with spent years training under some af the best chefs in the world. He spent a decade travelling the world, learning aboot different cuisines and when he returned tae Britain he wanted tae open his own restaurant. He an’ his cousin were both gunna invest an’ me parents knew hoo much a love cookin’, they knew if a wasn’t a Quidditch player I’d want me own restaurant, so they put in an investment in me name fer me birthday. It took jus’ under a year tae get ev’rything set up, but none af us knew hoo successful it would be. We’ve been having talks aboot opening up other branches across Europe, we think its time tae start branching oot.”

She stared at him. Just stared.

“Ye alright?”

“I’m getting a headache,” she said, reaching for her wine glass and taking a large gulp, before setting it back down.

“Ye own half af a bar, why’s this surprised ye?”

“Exactly, I own half a tiny, little, minuscule bar in Diagon Alley. You own a third of a multi-million galleon restaurant! I need to sit down,” she muttered.

“Ye are sitting doon,” he said amused.

“I think I’m going to faint,”

“Get some wine in ye an’ ye’ll be fine,” he shook his head, chuckling when she did just that, downing the rest of her glass like it was pumpkin juice and he reached for the wine bottle, pouring her some more.

“Any more surprises I need to know about?” She asked.

“Naw,” he shook his head, despite knowing he was keeping something from her. More specifically, the conversation he’d had with Bobby and the revelation that had come to light.

He hadn’t really thought much about what he’d learned. When he’d realised he’d loved Hermione, despite not being with her at that point, he’d already been imagining what life with her would be like, what it would be like to marry her and have kids with her.

Learning that she was to be his future wife, whilst it had been surprising, the longer that went by the less surprised he was. He’d come to terms with the fact he was sitting across from the woman he’d build a life with. It was one of the reasons he’d brought her to the restaurant in the first place. He’d known she’d pick up on things others wouldn’t and it would lead to questions she’d want him to answer.

He didn’t want to have secrets from her –except the marriage thing of course, it was best not to scare her off- and bringing her to the restaurant gave him a reason to tell her about it without just blurting it out randomly. After all, it would be a bit suspicious if you told your girlfriend of two days about your investments and assets, even if you did love her.

But he’d also brought her to the restaurant because it meant a lot to him, just like her music did to her, and he wanted to share it with her. He’d meant what he’d said about spoiling her and making sure she got to experience and see as much of the world as possible.

A witch like Hermione would appreciate the beauty and culture of the major cities, where he knew others would much prefer the sun and sand of tropical islands. The rain and cold didn’t bother Hermione. He suspected that if he took her to the South Pole where they’d freeze their arses off, she still wouldn’t complain because she got to see the penguins, of which he knew were one of her favourite animals.

Hermione wasn’t a materialistic person, she wasn’t the type to complain or to take things for granted. She always put others before herself, she always treated others with kindness –unless they deserved otherwise which he could understand- and because of the type of person she was, because of how she’d suffered both during the war and after, and how she’d come through it stronger than ever, he just wanted to give her everything he possibly could.

She was to someday be his wife and he was going to make sure he did everything he possibly could to not ruin things with her and ensure that Bobby’s words came to fruition.

Oliver would never keep secrets from her, with the exception of just this one.

~000~000~000~

“Ye alright?”

“Hmmm,” Hermione hummed, leaning further back into Oliver’s chest as he stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her as they both looked out at the City of Love from their place atop the Eiffel Tower. “I’m not going to lie, I’m absolutely terrified right now, but I know there’s a railing in front of me and I trust you won’t let me fall.”

“Great, guess tha’ means we can start flying lessons,” he replied.

“Sure, if you want me to shove you over the railing.”

He chuckled at her. “Baby steps it is,”

She sighed. “I honestly don’t know how you’re going to top this in the future.”

He perched his chin on her shoulder and turned his head, placing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, “Venice. Lisbon. Vienna. Anywhere in the world ye want tae go, a’ll take ye.”

She let out a groan before turning in his hold and not caring about her lip gloss -which she was sure had been wiped off ages ago anyway- she reached up to wind her hands in his soft hair and kissed him with the intentions of stealing his breath and making him dizzy. She guessed it’d worked because when she pulled back from him, his chest was rising and falling quickly, his hands gripped at her hips and his eyes were dark and filled with heat and fire.

“I really don’t deserve you,” she whispered, her gaze locked on his and a hand coming down to rest against his face, her thumb swiping across his cheekbone.

His mouth pulled into smile and he leaned into her touch. “Ye deserve ev’ry good thing in this world. It’s mae tha’ doesn’t deserve ye.”

“We’ll be here all night if we argue over this,” she pointed out and he chuckled. “I just need you to know that when I say I love you, I mean it. I don’t say those words often, but I do mean them. I really do love you, Knight.”

He smiled down at her, his hand coming up to brush back the curl that had been trying to break free all night and had finally done so. “Anno, jus’ as a love ye, Damsel,” he said, lowering his head to kiss her again.

“As much as I don’t want to leave and I’d happily stay here with you for the rest of my life, we should probably get home. It’s getting late and we both have work in the morning.”

He nodded and kissed her lightly on the mouth, pulling back with a raised eyebrow when he saw her biting her lip.

“What?”

Her face flushed, which meant she was either nervous or embarrassed, probably the latter.

“At the restaurant, you said you were ‘going to take me up’ the Eiffel Tower after dinner.”

“Right?”

She sighed and her head dropped forward to bury against his chest, him feeling her body shaking as she laughed. “I swear you’re a bad influence on me; when you said that it was so hard for me not to laugh.”

He frowned in confusion before she lifted her head and he saw her flushed cheeks, her amused smile and her bright eyes, and then it suddenly hit him and he let out a laugh of surprise.

“Miss. Granger, such a dirty mind,” he teased and she flushed a darker shade, but nodded in agreement.

“I know, but now I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“A’ve corrupted ye,” he said.

“I know you have,” she cried and he snorted.

“Well, as much as a’d love tae ‘take ye up the Eiffel Tower’...” Her breath hitched. “Am not risking someone seein’ ye half naked, but if we go home now....”

“Let’s go,” she said brightly.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Stumbling out of the fireplace and into the manor, Hermione had to pull away from Oliver as he’d kissed her the moment they’d landed and she nearly tripped over her dress. He didn’t look pleased but he didn’t argue when she moved her to the couch, gripping it for balance as she bent down to untie the straps from around her ankles and kicking off her heels.

Oliver made his way over to her but was distracted when Merlin came bounding down the corridor to greet them both, his barks of excitement being loud and his size meaning he almost knocked Hermione over. Chuckling, she sent him off to bed with his favourite duck that she’d found beneath the coffee table and Oliver looked at her as though he wanted to devour her.

“Will you give me five minutes? There’s something I need to do first.”

Oliver looked confused but otherwise nodded, his eyes following her as she gave him a smile and she stepped around him, going for the door and heading down the stairs. He waited for a few minutes before he heard it, the calming sound of a melody he didn’t recognise but knew where it came from and who was responsible for it.

He removed his jacket and hung it over the back of the couch before unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt and making his way towards the grand piano room. He found Hermione sat at the piano, her hair no longer being up but spilling down her back in soft ringlets, him noting that it was a little shorter than he remembered it being.

Soft candlelight flickered over her face as the floating candles dimly lit the room and her eyes were closed as her hands danced over the keys like they’d been doing it all her life. She stopped suddenly and picked up the quill from on top of the piano and she scribbled away at the bit of parchment with a concentrated frown on her face. She put the quill down and returned to playing the same melody he’d just heard.

He crossed the room and sat beside her, knowing she knew he was there because she leaned against him.

“What are ye doin’?” He asked curiously.

“Sorry, I know we had plans, but I got distracted,” she replied, her eyes still closed and her hands still dancing over the keys, the soft melody surrounding them. “When I said you were my inspiration I meant it. All through our date I couldn’t stop myself from thinking about what certain notes would sound like if they were played in a specific pattern, if the tempo was changed, if the notes were replaced or others were added in. I had it all floating about in my head and I knew that I wouldn’t be able to focus until I wrote it down so it wouldn’t be forgotten,” she explained, her fingers coming to a stop and she reached out for the quill once more.

He stole a peek at what she was scribbling and none of it made sense to him, the same way he knew he could write out a Quidditch play and it would make no sense to her. He supposed that’s why they worked so well together. They were both very passionate people. But he knew they’d have to be careful that passion didn’t destroy them. It wasn’t often his temper showed but when it did it rivalled Hermione’s.

“It sounded beautiful,” he told her.

“Thank you,” she smiled, putting down the quill and turning to face him. “But it’s literally the first eight seconds of the piece. Most are at least four and half minutes long. I’ve got a long way to go yet.”

“So yer actually creating a new song?” He asked surprised.

She nodded. “I’m trying to, and you’re my inspiration. What you did for me tonight, it was so incredible and thoughtful that the only way I know how to properly express myself would be through my music, hence my working on a new piece. But I’m still rusty, like you now know, it’s been eleven years since I’ve had anything to do with music.”

He smiled down at her, his hand coming up to cup her cheek and his head lowered to kiss her. Before either of them knew it her back was pressed up against the edge of the piano and she was clinging to him tightly as he pressed kisses to her neck and shoulders. The piano keys played each time she squirmed against him and she couldn’t help the giggle that escaped.

“What’s so funny?” He mumbled against her skin.

“Nothing, it’s just... There’s this muggle film, it’s called Pretty Woman. It’s about a prostitute that meets a rich man. He pays her to be his escort for a week and it’s basically about how they fall in love and change each other for the better. Anyway, it’s famous for a piano sex scene and this just reminded of it.”

“Maybe next time,” he muttered, tugging her forward and swiftly lifting her into his arms, carrying her out of the room, up the stairs and to the bedroom.

He set her down on her feet and was quick to find the zipper of her dress, undoing it and whilst Hermione shimmied out of it, leaving her in her dark lace underwear and after having a good stare, he quickly removed his shirt, dropping it to the ground to rest with her dress. He picked her up and set her down on the mattress, crawling up her body and hovering over her as he kissed her senseless.

Needing to breathe after a little while, he tore his mouth from hers and peppered kisses down her cheek and to her neck.

“Okay, I’ve changed my mind, you can owl the stadium and tell them you’re sick and we’ll just stay in bed all day,” Hermione sighed, her hands winding into his hair to keep him to her.

He chuckled against her skin, the vibrations having her shifting beneath him and wrapping her legs around his hips.

“They won’t believe am sick, a was fine taday,” he muttered.

She tugged on his hair when he nipped at the skin of her throat and soothed it with a swipe of his tongue.

“Tell them you had an allergic reaction to a new shampoo you bought.”

“An’ what aboot ye?”

“I told Coach I might be visiting my parents so if I don’t turn up at the stadium he won’t think anything of it.”

He pulled back to look down at her with an amused smile on his face, not only at what she’d just said but at the way a whine fell from her lips and she tried to pull him back to her.

“Did ye plan this? Ye already had the excuses ready.”

“Not exactly, but I had thought about it. At some point we were bound to pull a sicky and I knew we were going on a date so I was a bit hopeful. And given the absolutely wonderful date and you proving you’re the perfect boyfriend any girl could wish for, I’m glad I did.”

“Ye do realise tha’ yer not gunna get a lot af sleep, right?”

“I hope you realise that _you’re_ not going to get a lot of sleep,” she repeated. “And that’s why we’re pulling a sicky, so we can sleep off our exhaustion for most of the day.”

He smirked down at her, his eyes growing darker the longer their gaze held.

It was going to be a long night but neither of them cared. 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 19

**Puddlemere United Stadium – Wednesday 3rd February 1999**

"What the hell?" Oliver grouched, darting out of the way of the hands that reached for him, one of them actually managing to press against his forehead before he stepped back with a scowl on his face. "Leave mae alone, what's wrong with ye?"

"Us! Us! What's wrong with us!" Pallie's voice rose in disbelief. "What's wrong with _you_? You're the one that took a sick day. In the time I've known you, you've never once taken a sick day! Coach was beside himself, he almost passed out!"

"Yeah, what the hell man?" Thompson said, reaching out to try and touch his forehead to gauge his temperature, but Oliver swotted his hand away and stepped further back with an annoyed look on his face. "Are you dying?"

"Obviously not," he rolled his eyes. "Am stood right here, if a were dying the last thing a'd want tae see are yer ugly mugs."

"He's fine," Malloy said amused whilst the others scowled at him for his comment.

"A jus' had an allergic reaction tae a new shampoo a bought, an' am all better now."

They all looked at him as though they didn't believe him but thankfully their attention was drawn away from him and to Hermione as she stepped out of the floo, brushing down her clothing.

"Oh, hi boys," she smiled.

Oliver was amused at the way his teammates looked to each other with raised eyebrows before smiles pulled at their faces, and as a group, they all turned to look at her. Seeing their stares and far too innocent smiles, Hermione took a nervous step back.

"Hello, Hermione," Malloy purred, stepping closer and putting his arm around her shoulders as he pulled her into his side, looking down at her with a grin. "Where were you yesterday?"

"You do know I'm only required to be here three days unless I'm called in, right? And that I can choose which days I wish to work, yes?"

"Of course," he replied. "But it was unusual for you to not be here, especially without telling us the day before that you would be taking the day off, so we're 'not allowed to get injured as you'd be called in and your day would be ruined.'"

"Not that it's any of your business, _Benny_ ," she said, he grimaced at the name and the others sniggered. "But I haven't seen my parents since Christmas and they're usually very busy with their jobs. I found out they had taken the day off and I went to see them, we even went out to dinner and since you asked, yes, thank you, we had a wonderful time."

"I'd say, you're glowing," he said and Hermione's cheeks flushed pink and she squirmed, his arm feeling heavy around her shoulders.

She smiled. "I had a little to drink, it tends to do that to me," she replied.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself, you work too hard. But I have to say, it's remarkably strange that _both_ you and Wood were off on the same day."

Oliver kept his face passive and Hermione turned to him, a slight frown pulling at her face.

"Oh, since when does Captain-taking-a-day-off-is-a-sin-Wood not come to work? Is the apocalypse approaching? Have the dinosaurs returned? Do pigs now fly?" She asked, them sniggering at her words.

Oliver's mouth twitched in amusement and he titled his head. "Allergic reaction tae a new shampoo," he replied. "Not tae worry, me healer gave mae _plenty_ af TLC," he said innocently.

Hermione wanted to slap him!

"I'm glad to hear that, I wouldn't want to have to give your healer a piece of my mind for not taking proper care of our star player," she said. "Right boys, I made cookies," she spoke as she pulled the tupperware tub from her pocket, officially distracting them and giving her the chance to escape to her office.

~000~000~000~

**Muggle London**

"She said she would be here?"

"Aye, she did, Ma," Oliver replied for the tenth time in less than half an hour. "She left the stadium befere a did, she said this mornin' tha' she had tae do somethin' an' she would meet us there."

"Sorry, Dear, am jus' nervous," his mother spoke.

"We're all a wee bit on edge," his father said, taking her hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze as they made their way down the corridor and to the office that was all too familiar to them. "So, Oliver, speaking af Miss. Granger..."

Oliver turned to look at his father suspiciously as he smiled innocently.

"Hoo are things between ye an' her?"

"Why'd ye ask?"

His father just smiled

"Oh look, we're here," his mother said, pulling their attention.

Lifting his hand Oliver knocked on the door three times and barely seconds later they were called to enter, Oliver opening the door and allowing his parents to step into the room before he did and he closed the door behind him. As he turned around a relieved smile crossed his face when he saw Hermione already sat on a chair in front of Dr. Clay's desk and the moment she looked up at him and gave him a smile, he felt some of the tension and worry leaving his body. He wasn't blind to the way his parents were looking between him and Hermione with narrowed, curious gazes and they weren't being subtle about it either, but he honestly didn't care.

If his parents found out about him and Hermione being together it wouldn't be the end of the world because he knew they'd respect his and Hermione's wishes and keep it quiet until they were ready for the rest of the world to know. If anything it might make things easier. Having someone who knew your secret lessened the burden slightly and to add to it, he knew his parents would no longer worry about him being a lonely spinster for the rest of his life. If his mother knew he had a woman in his life who loved him and would take care of him, her worry for him would lessen and it would help to reduce her stress levels, improving her health regardless of her condition.

"Not only did I beat you here, but I took Merlin home, popped on over to the bank _and_ visited with Lee for half an hour before that," she said amused.

"It wisnae mae, it was me ma takin' tae long tae get ready," he said and his mother sent him a narrowed gaze and he smiled at her innocently.

"And she looks lovely, never rush a witch, Oliver," Hermione scolded, standing from her chair to greet his parents and at her comment, his mother was positively beaming in a way she hadn't done in weeks and she sent him a smug look. "It's lovely to see you again, Mrs. Wood," Hermione said, holding her hand out but his mother took her by surprise when she pulled her into a hug.

"An' ye as well, Dear. An' a've told ye befere, please call mae Beth," she responded, pulling back from Hermione with a smile.

Hermione smiled. "You really do look lovely," Hermione complimented.

She wore a white cashmere jumper, black trousers and comfortable shoes along with a minimal amount of makeup that was barely noticeable, and her hair was pulled back from her face and tied into a loose knot at the back of her neck. She looked as though she'd put on some weight, her skin looked less sickly and the bags under her eyes were now gone. Regardless of what the doctor said, she looked healthier.

"Oh, yer far tae kind, ye look beautiful yerself."

Hermione smiled and looked down at herself. She didn't look as beautiful as Oliver's mother, she looked normal. She wore no makeup, her hair was left to hang down her back and it was a little windswept and she wore jeans tucked into ankle boots, a white blouse and a jacket over the top.

She turned her eyes to the man stood beside her, seeing him watching her curiously with his eyes briefly darting between her and Oliver, making her wonder what he knew about their relationship.

To her, it was clear Oliver most looked like his father, though his hair was a darker shade of brown with a few streaks of grey here and there, and his eyes were slightly darker, too. His skin was tanned, his nose similar in shape to Oliver's and despite knowing he was in his early to mid-forties, his face held a small number of wrinkles that belied his age. He wore what looked to be black trousers and a grey sweater vest with a white shirt beneath allowing him to blend in easily enough.

"Mr. Wood, it's a pleasure to finally meet you," Hermione smiled, offering her hand for a shake and he did so, his mouth twitching in amusement as he looked to his son.

"An' ye as well, Miss. Granger. Oliver has showered ye with praises," he replied and Oliver sent him a less than pleased glance. "An' please, fer the woman tha' has not only captured me son's attention but has gone above an' beyond tae help me wife, it's Henry."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink. "In that case, please call me Hermione, and I only did what anyone else would do if they were capable of offering the resources I have."

"Don' be so sure aboot tha', there's a lot af selfish people in the world," he said, giving her a smile before gently guiding his wife towards a chair and sitting down beside her.

"You feeling okay?" Hermione asked him, stepping closer to him and looking over her shoulder to see if his parents were watching them. They were but they soon turned away before she caught them and when she turned back to him, their eyes moved to watch them once more.

"Better now tha' yer here," he nodded.

She smiled at him before she brought her hand up and poked him in the ribs. "Been showering me with praises, have we?" She teased. Oliver refused to be embarrassed and just chuckled at her, shaking his head slightly.

He held his hand out for her and she looked down at it, her eyes darting over to his parents.

"They've already seen us tagether, especially me ma," he pointed out. "Besides, a think they already suspect somethin's different between us."

"What do mean?" She frowned as she placed her hand in his and he held it gently.

"Ye know, me ma's the one tha' made mae realise me feelings fer ye," he explained and she looked surprised. "When she had her first chemo session an' ye left tae the bathroom, we had a conversation tha' was very confusing fer me. She made comments aboot what she'd observed af our behaviour an' interactions in the little time she'd seen us tagether, even back then she was convinced a was in love with ye. 'Coz af her a started questioning me feelings an' after we kissed at the Christmas Eve Ball, tha's when a realised she was right. A actually think tha' if it weren't fer her, a may have never figured oot what was happening between us. An' when they saw us together after they followed mae home tae the manor when yer stalker had been at yer parents' house, they saw hoo protective a was af ye an' yer privacy an' tha's when a admitted tae them tha' a loved ye. They both know hoo a feel aboot ye an' a think they've noticed tha' somethin's different, they've been watching mae since a picked them up."

"So what you're saying is, I owe having you as a boyfriend to your mother?"

"Probably," he nodded, his eyes darting over her shoulder to see his parents still watching them and when they realised he'd caught them staring, they both quickly turned away and his mouth twitched in amusement. "Like a said, if it weren't fer her poking her nose in our business an' bein’ adamant tha' a had feelings fer ye, a may have never figured it oot. She gave mae the nudge a needed tae sit doon an' sought through me thoughts."

"I'm going to have to bake her a cake," she said.

He snorted. "She likes lemon drizzle an' red velvet."

"I'll make her both," she nodded and he shook his head. "So, they're suspicious about what's going on between us?"

"Aye," he nodded, raising an eyebrow when he saw her mouth pull into a smile.

"Well, your mother's seen us holding hands and being close to each other purely out of comfort," she mused.

"Yer point?"

She smiled up at him. "So, if I were to do this..." She reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek, a smile pulling at his mouth when he heard his mother's soft gasp. "Is it what a friend would do, or a lover?" She finished, pulling back to look at him.

"Yer evil," he said amused.

"May as well have a little fun, right? I mean, given what we're here for, it doesn't hurt to tease your parents a little until they discover the truth."

He chuckled. "A suppose," he replied.

Just to add fuel to the fire, he reached up with the hand that wasn't currently holding hers and he brushed her hair back from her face, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead and hearing his father's noise of surprise and his mother's hiccup. Hermione's shoulders shook as she laughed silently.

"Is tha' somethin' a friend might do, or a lover?"

"And you say I'm evil," she sniggered.

"If ye cannae beat 'em, join 'em," he said.

"They might actually have a heart attack if I kiss you."

"Best ye don' given me ma's health, but a kinda do wanna see their reaction," he replied.

She chuckled before stepping back from him and pulling him over to the final two chairs in the room, putting Oliver on his mother's right and Hermione next to him, whilst his father sat on the other side of his mother.

"Ye alright?" Oliver asked his parents innocently, seeing them watching them with slightly wide eyes, parted mouths and their gazes darting between him, Hermione and their clutched hands.

"Fine," his father said, shaking his head.

At that moment the door opened and Dr. Clay stepped into the room, giving them all a friendly smile as he crossed the room and took a seat behind his desk. Greetings were quickly exchanged before he removed a folder from a drawer in his desk and he flipped it open, his eyes scanning the contents, double-checking he knew what he was about to tell them.

"Well then, I see no point in keeping you in suspense, and I'll put it as simply as I can. We have some good news and some bad news," Dr. Clay said.

Hermione felt Oliver's grip on her tighten as he sat ramrod straight in his chair, and she saw his father do the same.

"The good news is the chemotherapy does seem to be working."

Hermione was both surprised by the news, but not at the same time. She'd known chemotherapy did wonders for some patients, but she hadn't known how it would react to being put into a treatment plan with magical medications, too, and not just that, but when Dr. Clay handed over the folder for her to flick through the scans, she was surprised with how quickly it seemed to have worked.

"An' the bad news?" Oliver's father asked.

"The bad news is that although the chemotherapy has reduced the mass surrounding the lungs, it hasn't done so enough that I'd feel comfortable in allowing you to be put through surgery to have it removed."

Oliver looked over to his mother with a frown, seeing her blank expression and because she wasn't showing her emotions, that worried him.

"But that's perfectly normal," Hermione spoke and Oliver turned to look at her and she gave him a small smile, giving his hand a squeeze. "It just means that if your mother wishes to continue treatment, another schedule will be made and after the sessions are over, we see if it's then possible for surgery. The fact that the chemotherapy is working at all is incredible."

Oliver slowly nodded before turning his eyes back to the doctor.

"Healer Granger is correct," Dr. Clay spoke. "Looking at the results and estimating the reduction in the mass in the time since chemotherapy was started, if it continues at the rate it has been, then I see no reason why won't be able to attempt surgery next time. That is, of course, if you should wish to continue with the chemotherapy treatments," he said, looking to his mother.

She gripped his father's hand and sat a little further forward in her seat.

"Am not giving up jus' yet," she said firmly. "If the chemotherapy has worked, but not enough fer surgery, am happy tae continue with treatments until it is."

Hermione smiled proudly and looked towards the doctor. "What are you thinking for the schedule? Are we going to repeat the same amount of treatments? Have the same length of time for each treatment? Are we having less or more? More frequently or less frequently?"

The doctor nodded. "At the moment I would recommend having the treatments more frequently, but decreasing the number of sessions and increasing the length of each session. If you think you can handle that, of course."

His mother nodded. "Am ready tae beat this."

The doctor smiled at her. "This time your treatments will happen once a week and last two hours for a total of four weeks. After which we'll do some more scans and see what the results say. If they come back as we hope, then we'll book you in for surgery as soon as possible. If not, the decision to continue with the treatment or not is up to you."

"Tha's fine," she nodded.

He turned away from them and started typing at his computer for a few minutes, before looking back to them.

"I've booked your first treatment for nine o'clock on Monday morning, and the following treatments will take place every Tuesday at eleven o'clock. Once treatment is over, I'll contact you with a time to come for your scans and we'll get you back in as soon as possible to discuss the results, okay? Is there anything else you'd like to discuss or ask?"

"A think we've covered ev'rything, thank ye, Dr. Clay," she said, standing from her chair.

After handshakes were shared, they all left out of the office and slowly made their way down the corridor, processing what they'd learned.

"So, who would like some tea and biscuits?" Hermione asked.

"A don' much feel up tae eating, Dear, but thank ye fer the offer," his mother said with a small smile.

Hermione smiled sweetly. "Not even if there's lemon drizzle and red velvet cake on offer?"

His mother stopped still in the corridor, her eyes lighting up and her tense frame relaxing. "Lemon drizzle _an’_ red velvet?"

"Of course, it would be such a pain to have to choose one over the other, so we might as well have both," Hermione replied, turning and walking off down the corridor and heading for the exit.

Both Oliver and his father blinked in surprise when his mother moved quicker than they'd seen in a long time, catching up to Hermione and falling into step beside her.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

"Ma," Oliver sighed, dropping his head back onto the couch.

"Well answer me question, Oliver," she huffed, reaching over to put her tea down on the coffee table in the living room.

They'd barely gotten into the manor when Merlin came bounding out of nowhere, barking loudly and rushing to greet him and Hermione. He was a little suspicious of his parents but after having a sniff, he'd soon settled down on the couch beside his mother and she absentmindedly ran her hand through his fur whilst he curled up against her side.

Hermione had excused herself to make the tea and after dropping it off in the living room, she returned to the kitchen to busy herself with some baking. With Oliver being sat closest to the kitchen, every so often he heard Hermione humming to herself and he'd come to realise that it was the same melody she'd been trying to complete for a couple of days now.

"What does it matter? Me relationship with Hermione shouldn't be yer concern. Ye need tae worry aboot yerself, not aboot mae, am fine."

"Yer me son, naw matter hoo big ye get yer always gunna be me baby an' am always gunna worry aboot ye, tha's part af bein' a parent. Somethin' ye won't understand unless ye pull yerself tagether an' tell tha' witch hoo ye feel aboot her."

Oliver groaned and ran a hand over his face, hearing his father's chuckle. "Ma, a promise, ye don' have tae worry aboot mae. Am happy in me life right now, am only twenty-three an' a have plenty af time tae marry an' have kids."

"Aye, but if ye don' hurry it up ye'll be marrying the wrong witch," she replied, her eyes darting to the kitchen when they heard the sound of Hermione dropping a spoon on the floor. "If ye don' pull yerself tagether, tha' witch in there won' be around fer long an' ye'll lose yer chance with her." Oliver rolled his eyes. "Yer father told mae aboot her naw longer bein' in danger, an' apparently she's dating. If ye don' tell her hoo ye feel, befere ye know it she'll be gone from yer life an' marrying another wizard."

Oliver had every intention of making sure that wasn't going to happen and thanks to Bobby, he no longer had to worry about his future, well, not in that way at least. He didn't have to worry about finding the right person to spend his life with, he didn’t have to worry if he was marrying the wrong witch because he knew Hermione was to be his wife. This meant he could spend all of his time enjoying his life with Hermione rather than wondering if he'd made the right decisions or if he'd made mistakes.

"Right, if you can be a little patient the cakes should be done in about twenty-five minutes, plus another fifteen to allow for cooling and decoration," Hermione spoke, coming into the living room and wiping her hands dry on a tea towel.

"If it tastes as good as it smells a'll be happy tae wait," his mother smiled at her.

Hermione smiled back. "I understand today was a little jarring so I'll leave you alone for a little while, but if you need me I won't be far," she said. "Come on, Merlin," she called. "Let's go for a walk."

As she turned and headed for the door that led to the foyer, Merlin jumped down off the couch and bounded after her, and he heard Hermione scold Merlin from the staircase which meant he'd nearly knocked her down the stairs.

"Where's she aff tae?" His father asked, looking to the windows to see that it had started raining.

"A have an idea," he replied. Giving the humming she'd been doing he knew she'd gone to the piano room.

For nearly ten minutes his mother continued to ask him questions about Hermione and their relationship and he was very close to giving in, but he wanted to make sure Hermione was comfortable with it first. He made an excuse before leaving the living room and heading down to the piano room. At first, he'd thought that was where she'd gone, but he hadn't heard the piano playing in the time since she'd left, so he wasn't so sure.

But as he pushed opened the door and stepped inside, she was there. The light streamed in through the window and onto the piano, Merlin was curled up beneath the piano and Hermione was sat on the padded bench, her hands resting on the keys but not playing, and a slight frown sat on her face.

"Thought a'd find ye here," he said, startling her as he moved to sit beside her. "Why aren't ye playing?"

"I've hit a rough patch," she sighed, bringing her hands up to run through her hair. "I need inspiration, I just can't seem to get past the first twelve seconds of the piece. Every time I try my mind just goes blank."

"Inspiration, ye say?" He said, his mouth pulling up into a smirk and she turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow.

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth against hers in a chaste kiss before pulling away.

"Any better?"

"Definitely not," she shook her head amused. "But it is the kind of motivation I can get behind."

He chuckled at her before his mouth pressed against hers, a sigh leaving her and her arms coming up to wrap around his neck as he pulled her into him. He was sure to kiss her until she was breathless and was rather pleased with himself when he pulled back.

"Will ye play mae tha' song?"

"Love Dream?"

"Tha's the one," he nodded.

"Don't you want me to play you something else? I do have other pieces in my repertoire, it's not just that one."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Later, but a like tha' one. There's somethin' aboot it... It's jus' calming an' soft."

"Okay, Love Dream it is," she said.

Oliver shifted on the bench until he was sat facing her with his legs placed on either side of the bench and with his arms around Hermione, he pulled her closer until her side touched his chest and he leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder as he watched her hands move to the keys and the soft melody started playing.

He sighed and closed his eyes, feeling the music taking over him, peace and serenity seeming to surround him and he tilted his head to press a kiss to her neck.

"Thank ye fer comin' with mae taday, ye were a real help," he muttered.

"You don't have to thank me. Whenever you need me I'll always be there for you, I love you, you idiot. I think that shampoo's gone to your brain for you to have forgotten that."

He laughed at her, shaking his head. "A dinnae ferget, it's jus' sometimes it's hard tae believe tha' yer really mine, an' a love ye, too."

They fell silent until Hermione's hands slowed and the music came to a stop and he let out a sigh before Hermione turned her head and gave him a quick kiss, reaching for the quill on top of the piano but she stilled when there was a gasp.

Oliver opened his eyes to see his mother and father stood in the doorway and giving their surprised expressions, he knew they'd seen the kiss they'd just shared and the way he was currently holding Hermione against him, too. That had him curious as to how long they'd been stood there and what they'd heard.

"Your parents?" Hermione whispered, keeping her eyes forward.

"Aye, they must've gotten bored af waiting fer mae an' come looking. Ye alright with them knowing?"

"Yes," she nodded. "And at some point I'm going to have to introduce you to my parents, too."

"A was expecting it," he nodded, before lifting his chin from Hermione's shoulder and sitting up straight, but not relinquishing his hold on her. His eyes locked on his parents, him being a little worried that his mother might actually faint. "When a told ye tha' ye dinnae have tae worry aboot mae, a meant it." He spoke, seeing them both blinking slowly. "Hermione's me girlfriend an' she's officially moved in with mae, tae."

His mother opened her mouth but no sound left, amusing him.

"We'd appreciate it if ye dinnae tell anyone. We're wanting tae keep it a secret fer a bit, jus' until we've had chance tae spend time tagether and we've had chance tae tell Hermione's parents an' her friends. As ye can imagine, once the press gets wind af this it's gunna be a nightmare."

His father cleared his throat and shook his head. "Yer tagether?" He asked slowly.

"Aye," Oliver nodded. "Since Saturday night."

His father's mouth twitched in amusement, knowing that Hermione had been out on a date that night. "An' yer living tagether?"

Oliver's parents weren't as old fashioned as most Purebloods were, and because of that he knew they had no issues with cohabitation or sex before marriage, the news he'd just divulged had surprised them, that being the only reason they seemed to be taking their time to process it.

"She was living here anyway," he shrugged. "It was only logical tha' she _moved_ in with mae."

His father blinked once more before a smile pulled at his face and he reached out for his mother's hand, guiding her further into the room and helping to bring her back to reality.

"Ye mean tae tell mae, a've spent half af me afternuin worrying tha' ye'd never pluck up the courage tae tell Hermione hoo ye feel, an' all this time yer've actually been in a relationship?" His mother asked, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aye, it was Hermione's fault."

Hermione scoffed and elbowed him in the ribs, sending him a glare over her shoulder and he chuckled at her.

"Alright, a was havin' a bit af fun winding yer up," he admitted.

"Would you mind checking on the cakes for me?" Hermione asked. "They should be done now, I'll just finish this and be right up."

Oliver nodded and unwrapped his arms from around her, standing from the bench and heading out the room and heading for the kitchen, noting that his parents hadn't followed him. That meant they'd stayed behind likely to have a talk with Hermione and though he was curious to hear what would be said, he decided it was best not to intrude on their privacy.

Hermione watched as Oliver left the room and then she turned to look at his parents, seeing them watching her curiously.

"A dinnae know ye played," his mother spoke, moving closer until she stood beside the piano and her husband moved with her. "A only heard a bit af what ye were playing, but it was beautiful."

"Thank you," Hermione smiled. "And not many people know that I play. I stopped when I was a child and I've only recently found my love for it again, and it's thanks to Oliver," she answered, moving to pick up her quill and jotting down a few notes on a second piece of parchment so she could later see if she could find a place for them in the piece she was working on. "I don't want you to have to worry," she said, putting down the quill and turning on the bench to better face them. "I love him."

"Anno," his mother replied with a soft smile. "A've always known, the day we met at the hospital a knew from the way ye looked at him."

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink and they both chuckled at her.

"Well, he's very special. There are very few people in the world that I trust and that I feel safe with, but I can honestly say Oliver is the first. For most people, it's hard to understand that I'm not just a war heroine or a successful healer but Oliver is able to see past that. He doesn't judge me for the things I've been forced to do or the things I've been forced to face. He helped me during a very difficult time in my life and if it weren't for him, I'm almost certain that I could've died. The only reason I'm able to sit here talking to you now with my sanity still intact is because he kept me from falling apart. He's honestly the kindest, most patient person I've ever met and you've done a remarkable job in raising him to be the man he is today."

Her eyes watered and she gave a sniffle, a little laugh leaving her. "Thank ye, Dear, we tried our best," she replied.

"And you succeeded. If there were more people in the world like Oliver and like yourselves as it takes someone truly remarkable to do what you've done, then the world would be a better place."

"Oh, now yer've done it," she sniffled, her husband chuckling as he pulled her into him and gave her a hug as she hiccupped, burying her face in his chest.

"I'm afraid to say more," Hermione smiled. "So, I think it's best if you head back to Oliver, he's probably worrying that you're revealing his most embarrassing moments as a child. I'll follow you up in five minutes and put the finishing touches on the cakes, I just have to let Merlin out to use the bathroom first."

~000~000~000~

"Ma, why are ye crying?" Oliver asked, stepping away from the counter and moving closer to her and his father as they entered into the kitchen.

Oliver huffed out a breath when she hurried over to him and pulled him into a tight hug, his father chuckling in amusement when Oliver looked surprised.

"Tha' girl af yers is a charmer," his father said with a smile, and Oliver noticed that he also looked a little teary-eyed. He decided he didn't want to know what had been discussed in his absence.

"Where's Hermione?" He asked.

"She said she'll be up in a few minutes, she's jus' letting tha' dog af hers oot fer a bathroom break," he answered.

Oliver nodded and managed to pull himself free of his mother's hold, before heading over to the counter and making a fresh batch of tea, taking it over to the kitchen table where he sat down and his parents sat opposite him, accepting their tea when he finished preparing it to their liking.

"A told Hermione aboot Amour, a even took her there on our first date the other day," he said casually and his mother nearly choked her on her tea and his father sent him a narrowing of the eyes as he patted her on the back. "She's not a galleon digger," he defended.

"We never said she was," his father replied, holding his hands up in surrender. "But was tha' really wise, especially this early in yer relationship?"

"She's not a galleon digger," he repeated firmly. "She was so surprised by the news a thought she was gunna pass oot, she did look a bit queasy even after dinner, but a did take her up the Eiffel Tower an' she hates heights, so tha' could've contributed tae it, tae. She's not interested in me money, she has her own wealth, granted, it's not tae our level, but from what a've been able tae piece tagether it's certainly enough fer her tae live on comfortably an' not have tae work if she doesn't wish tae. As it is, a know she's a silent partner af a business, tae."

"Really, which one?" His father enquired curiously.

"The Crimson Lion, a bar in Diagon Alley," Oliver answered. "She owns half af the business an' Lee Jordan owns the other half."

"Ah, from what a've heard it's become quite popular since it's opening a few months ago," his father mused.

"Whenever a've visited it's always been packed an' there's a queue half-way down the alley jus' tae get in. It's become the team's favourite bar an' they spend most af their time there now," Oliver replied. "Anyway, a wanted tae ask ye a favour, Ma, tha's if yer up tae it af course."

"An' tha' would be?" She asked intriguingly.

"Yer've always had a talent fer real estate," he started and she raised an eyebrow. "Hermione does a lot af charity work fer an orphanage in Diagon Alley." Both his mother and father looked surprised, whether that was because of what he'd just told them or because they hadn't known there was an orphanage in Diagon Alley, he didn't know. "A've been visiting with her once a week an' the kids there are great. The orphanage doesn't get enough funding from the Ministry tae feed, clothe an' house all the kids, so Hermione was workin' on a fundraiser event. Long story short, both mae an' Malloy went tae Coach an' he went tae the bosses. They're gunna fund, host, advertise an' sponsor the entire event at the stadium, an' they're gunna be regular donors tae the orphanage, it's part af the deal they offered Hermione if she took the position as healer fer the team. They need a new house, the one they're in now is barely stable an' a want those kids oot af there as soon as possible."

"An' ye want mae tae find a new residence," his mother stated knowingly.

"Aye, but only if yer feeling up tae it, anno yer've got a lot on with yer new treatment schedule."

"Oliver, a'd be happy tae help, it'll be a good distraction fer mae," she smiled. "What are the requirements?"

"Nothin' fancy an' mainly just the basics. A kitchen large enough tae prepare meals fer the children, a canteen or dining hall, a common room fer the kids tae play in, possibly a garden so they can go ootside. There needs tae be a staff room fer the workers, an office or twa fer the manager an' her deputy, a few bedrooms fer the staff working night shifts an' enough bedrooms fer at least seventy-nine children, having more will be a bonus though as they'll be able tae take in more kids."

His mother blinked in surprise but shook her head and a smile pulled at her mouth.

"Our best bet would be tae find a manor house similar tae this one, preferably not tae run doon so it doesn't require tae much work an' the staff an' children can get settled in as soon as possible. Tha's gunna be a difficult find, but a do love a challenge," she smiled. "What's the age range af the children?"

"Last time a was there, three up tae the age af seventeen. There was a baby, aboot six months old an' he was there as his mother died an' had naw other known family, thankfully the father was found an' the last a heard he's with him now."

"Tha' good tae hear," she said softly. "A'll get looking as soon as a get home. The building itself may have tae have a bit af work done tae accommodate the needs af the children an' staff, but a'll make sure tae find somethin'."

"Thank ye, anno the staff an' kids will be over the moon. An' there's somethin' a want tae tell ye," Oliver said, a little nervously in fact and it pulled the attention of his parents.

"An' tha' is?" His father asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Am gunna marry Hermione."

Neither of his parents looked that surprised, but then again, his mother had been harping on about it being time for him to find a witch and settle down even before Hermione had come into his life, and the moment she'd met Hermione, she hadn't been shy of voicing her opinion on his lack of a relationship with her.

"A hope ye do," his mother replied with a teary smile, making him curious as to what Hermione had said to them to get that reaction out of them. He rarely saw his mother cry, whether it being out of sadness or happiness. "She's a wonderful woman, an' we'd love nothin' more than fer her tae be a part af our family."

"Ye don' get it, am gunna marry her."

"Ye may have not been tagether long, but when ye know, ye know," his father said, taking his mother's hand on top of the table and smiling down at her.

Oliver sighed. "Naw, a am gunna marry her, Bobby said so."

"Excuse mae?" Both his parents spoke, their eyes widening slightly.

"Bobby told mae on Sunday. Since the very first day she came here, he's been answering her calls an' a know he hides in the shadows an' follows her aboot sometimes. A asked him why an' he said it was 'coz she's the future Mistress af the Manor. She's gunna be me wife an' he's known since the very beginning."

"Elf-house magic at its best," his mother spoke softly, her eyes tearing up and she sniffled and Oliver frowned in confusion.

"Ye know the story af hoo we met an' came tagether, but what we never told ye was tha' a knew a was gunna marry yer mother. Kipper's been me elf since a was born an' when a left somethin' at home after returning tae Hogwarts fer me third year, he brought it tae the castle where he met yer mother. He told me the exact same thing tha' Bobby told ye," his father explained and Oliver felt his eyes widen. "Kipper never told anyone but mae, not even me parents 'coz he was me elf an' could only answer tae mae. A knew tha' a had tae be careful with hoo a acted around yer mother, an' a couple af years later a'd managed tae win her heart an' as soon as we left Hogwarts we married. It's why a went against me father's wishes an' broke the marriage contract with the other witch. A knew she wasn't meant tae be the next Lady Wood, it was yer mother."

"He never told mae," his mother spoke, looking over to her husband with teary eyes and a loving smile on her face. "Not until after we were married an' ev'rything suddenly made sense tae mae." His father lifted her hand and placed a kiss to the back of it before she turned her eyes back to him, her smile widening as she looked him over. "It's a well known fact house-elf magic is incredibly powerful, but not in the way most people think it is. House-elves are able tae sense the magical auras af witches an' wizards, an' by doin' this, they're able tae see who is compatible an' who isnae. Those tha' are in a relationship with someone who is not magically compatible either don' last or struggle tae maintain a relationship. Yer magic doesn't have tae be completely compatible, jus' enough tha' yer able tae produce healthy an' strong children. This is why most arranged marriages fail, Squibs are born an' there's a low birth rate af Pureblood children. Rather than acknowledging a house-elf's magic tae find a compatible witch, they ignore it an' refuse tae use the magic af a _lesser_ bein'. From the research tha's been done in the past, one oot af ten couples are truly compatible, much like yer father an' a are, or as it seems, ye an' Hermione."

Oliver sat back in his chair, trying to process what his parents had divulged.

"This in naw way affects or influences yer feelings fer Hermione, or hers fer ye," his father said. "It's purely based on yer magical core an' aura. It has nothin' tae do with genetics or personalities or horoscopes an' divination, it’s jus' magic. This happened tae a friend af mine from school. Whilst he did marry the witch most compatible tae him, it took years fer them tae grow used tae each other an' develop feelings fer one another. Ye loving Hermione is entirely ye an' nothin' else."

"Tha's a lot tae take in," Oliver muttered, reaching up tae swipe his hand through his hair.

"All we've ev'r hoped fer is tha' ye would find a witch tha' ye were somewhat magically compatible with an' tha' ye truly cared fer. We never dreamed ye'd find yer most compatible match or tha' ye'd love her the way yer mother an' a love each other."

"An' fer it tae be a witch as kind, intelligent, strong an' talented as Hermione, tha's jus' the icing on the cake," his mother smiled.

"I'm about to do that now," Hermione's voice sounded and they all jumped in surprise as she stepped into the room. "What have I missed? Nothing too scandalous I hope?" She smiled.

His mother turned to her, a smile of her own on her face. "Afraid not, Dear, we were jus' sayin' hoo lucky our Oliver is tae have a woman tha' is both intelligent an' beautiful, inside an' oot."

Hermione flushed pink and ducked her head slightly and Oliver's mouth twitched in amusement.

"That's kind of you to say, but there are far more people out there that are smarter and prettier than I am," Hermione replied, lightly shaking her head. "Give me ten minutes and you can finally have that cake I promised you," she said, stepping over to the other side of the kitchen and busying herself with pulling out the things she needed from the cupboards.

"She doesn't know, an' a want tae keep it tha' way, a don' wanna freak her oot," Oliver muttered, leaning over the table so his parents would be able to hear him.

"We'll keep our mouths shut," his father promised.

"A cannae believe am gunna have Hermione Granger as a daughter-in-law," his mother whispered, happy tears swimming in her eyes. "I've always wanted a daughter."

Oliver sighed; he knew his mother had always wanted another child but it hadn't been possible for them as she'd had a few complications whilst being in labour with him and it resulted in her chances of conceiving again dropping drastically. And much to both of his parents' dismay, as well as his own in fact, he'd never gotten a sibling.

"Ma, if ye start treatin' her like she's already yer daughter-in-law, she'll get suspicious," Oliver muttered, peering over at Hermione to make sure she wasn't listening to them. She wasn't, she was too busy humming to herself as she iced the lemon drizzle cake.

"A'll hold meself back fer as long as a can. An' don' ye dare do anythin' tae mess things up with tha' witch. She's perfect fer ye an' a can already imagine the perfect grandbabies yer gunna give mae, if ye ruin tha' a won't hesitate tae ground ye fer the rest af yer life," his mother warned and Oliver rolled his eyes whilst his father snorted.

"Ma, am twenty-three, ye cannae ground mae like am a teenager," he replied.

"Ye underestimate yer mother," his father chuckled, shaking his head.

~000~000~000~

"I'm exhausted," Hermione sighed, falling onto the mattress with a heavy 'thud' and bouncing up a little before settling back down and he chuckled at her, slipping his hands into his pockets and leaning against the wall beside the bed. "Who knew your mother could talk so much?"

"A did warn ye she was a chatterbox, why did ye think a was tryna get rid af her. Ye were the one tha' invited them tae stay fer dinner," he said amused.

"It was the polite thing to do, they'd just found out you had a girlfriend that lives with you, I knew they'd have questions and would want to get to know me a little better," she replied and he shook his head. "We'll give it a week or two and then we'll introduce you to my parents, but I'll have to tell them about you first so I'll make sure to visit them some time beforehand. I warn you though, my father, he's very protective of me."

"Af course he is," he replied. "A witch like you, he'd want to keep all the wizards away and make sure you only got the best."

"Well, I'll make sure to let him know I already have it and that he has to be nice to you. I'm not above playing the 'Daddy's little girl' card. If I just pout a little and give him the sad eyes, he'll do what I want."

"Yer gunna manipulate yer father intae bein' nice tae mae?" He asked amused.

"Yep, it's that or he'll threaten to pull your teeth out whilst you're awake and without pain relief or a numbing agent."

Oliver paled and she laughed at him. "Manipulate away," he shivered. "So, it's Valentine's Day in a couple af weeks," he started.

"Right?" She prompted and he smiled, so she raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"A wisnae joking aboot takin' ye tae see the world. So, where do ye wanna go?"

"What?" She spluttered.

"Where do ye wanna go? Italy? Prague? Belgium? Or even Paris so ye can see the rest af the tourist sites?"

She frowned, pushing herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Valentine's falls on a Sunday, and whilst we're off work, a day's not enough time to see all the sites."

He smiled and tilted his head to the side. "A take it naw one's told ye yet?"

"Told me what?" She asked confused.

"It's very rare tha' Coach takes days aff, even when he's sick, so he negotiated in his contract tha' he gets Valentine's aff so he can spend it with his wife. Seeing as it falls on a weekend this year he'll be aff Friday through tae Monday, an’ 'coz he won't be at the stadium, the team an’ their healer get the weekend aff, tae." She blinked in surprise. "So, hoo would ye like tae spend four days in Paris? Or would ye like tae split it, twa days in Paris an' twa somewhere else. We could even leave on Thursday after training an' head straight over so we have more time there."

"How do you expect to get to all these places?" She asked. "Paris I get, with you being a partial owner of Amour and it being your property, you can legally floo over to Paris. But other countries and cities, unless you have properties there, too, it's illegal to floo. Apparition and flying are obviously out of the equation, and you have to apply for port keys weeks in advance."

"A have an international flooing licence," he shrugged.

"How the hell do you have that?" She questioned in surprise. "They rarely give those out. Even Harry couldn't get one and he's Harry-bloody-saviour-of-the-world-twice-over-Potter."

He laughed at her. "Me job, everyone on the team has one, Coach, tae. We travel away a lot when it comes tae match season an' a lot af the time we have charity an’ practice matches with other teams throughout Europe which requires international travel. Me licence means tha' a can take a plus one with mae naw matter where am flooing tae, but while we're on the subject, ye'll have tae apply fer one, tae. After all, we cannae have our healer gettin' left behind, plus one or not. Trust mae, ye'll be approved."

She blinked slowly before shaking her head. "You want to take me to Paris for a four day weekend Valentine's trip."

"Aye," he nodded. "But it doesn't have tae be Paris, it can be anywhere in Europe ye want tae go. We'll even go tae another continent if ye'd rather, maybe Africa or one of the Americas. It's up tae ye."

She brought her hands up to her hair and brushed it back from her face, letting out a huge breath. "This is all very overwhelming," she said quietly.

Oliver's expression softened and he closed the short distance between them, crouching down in front of her and taking her hands in his as he looked up at her.

"Anno it is," he said softly. "But yer gunna have tae get used tae it 'coz a plan on treating ye the way ye deserve, an' tha' means takin' ye tae see the world tha' ye helped tae save from damnation."

"I don't need any of that from you. That's not why I love you."

"Anno," he smiled. "An' tha' jus' makes mae want tae do it all the more. So, ye have a think aboot it an' let mae know where'd ye like tae go so a can make the hotel arrangements."

Slowly, she nodded her head. "Okay, but you're not getting me a gift, this is more than enough. I mean it, Oliver," she said when she saw his innocent smile. "And I have no idea how I'm going to top this."

"It's not a competition, Damsel."

"I know it's not, but anything I give you can hardly compare to what you're giving me," she pouted.

He smiled at her. "Anythin' ye give mae am bound tae love 'coz yer the one tae give it tae mae. Yer've yet tae get mae a gift tha' a havnae liked," he told her. "A mean, those aprons are some af the best things a've ever seen."

Her mouth twitched and he smiled, happy with himself for setting her at ease. Standing up to his full height, he pulled her up from the bed and into him, wrapping his arms around her to keep her to him.

"So, ye wanna shower with mae?" He asked with a grin.

"No, thank you," she said instantly.

"Why not?" He pouted like a child and she snorted at him.

"Why? I'll tell you why, shower time is my time. I don't want someone being in there with me whilst I'm washing my hair and shaving my legs and singing badly to the showerhead."

"Now tha's somethin' a'd pay tae see," he grinned.

She rolled her eyes. "You're never going to see that. As I said, shower time is _my_ time, no matter how handsome you are or how much I love you, I'm not letting you anywhere near my shower."

"Tha's fine, we can use me shower, or one af the other seven in the manor. If ye wanna get crazy, we could even use one af the showers in the guest houses tha' are on the land."

"I'm not getting in _any_ shower with you. Baths are meant for relaxing and showers are meant for a quick wash if ye can't be arsed having a bath or you're late for work or an event. You don't need to have another person in there with you and personally, I can't see the appeal of wanting to have sex in either."

He smirked down at her. "What if a can change yer mind?"

"You won't," she said stubbornly, crossing her arms over her chest and giving him a look of challenge.

His mouth twitched. "Challenge accepted, Miss. Granger," he said and she let out a shriek when he swooped down and lifted her into his arms, heading straight for the bathroom. "Don' be surprised if ye wanna pull another sicky after this."

He laughed at her huff of outrage which was soon followed by another shriek when he strode straight into the shower, still fully clothed, and turned on the water.


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 12

**Granger Residence – Saturday 20th February 1999**

"Dad?" Hermione spoke, nervously biting at her lip and fiddling with her hands in her lap as she stared at her father, sitting on the couch with her mother perched beside him and she sat on the armchair opposite them.

"Give him a moment, Dear," her mother spoke, looking to her husband amused but after a few moments of silence and without a reaction from him, she rolled her eyes and nudged him with her shoulder, bringing him back to focus.

"I'm sorry," he shook his head slightly. "I could've just sworn you just said you've got a boyfriend."

Hermione shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. "That's because I did. I do have a boyfriend, and well, things between are quite serious."

"How serious?" Her father asked with a clenched jaw and a twitch to his eye.

"We've admitted we love each other and well...We kind of..."

"You kind of?" Her mother prompted.

Hermione took a breath to calm herself. "Well...We kind of live together."

"What!"

She winced but wasn't all that surprised by their outburst, in fact, she was surprised they were taking it so well.

"We live together," she repeated.

"Hermione..."

"No, Mum," she cut her off, "You don't understand, you haven't even given me a chance to explain."

"You're right, we're sorry, please, tell us about him and explain it to us, preferably before your father has a coronary."

"Right, his name's Oliver and he's twenty-three," she started, seeing the way her father tensed slightly at the slight age gap but she knew he had no right to be judgemental given him and her mother were almost a decade apart in age. "We've been together for three weeks..."

"Three weeks!" Her father exploded. "Three weeks and you live together! Three weeks is not long enough to know someone, it's not long enough to know you _love_ someone."

"Really? Didn't you and mum confess your love for one another after only two weeks and marry after three months of meeting," Hermione snapped back, her nerves taking a back seat and anger replacing it at her father being so judgemental over her relationship with Oliver.

"Hermione..."

"No, Mum, he's being a hypocrite. You've never even met Oliver, you don't know the kind of man he is, you don't know what he does for a living, you interrupted my explanation before I'd even given you the details of how we met."

Her mother sighed, pinching her father on the arm when he made to reply and he soon snapped his mouth shut, giving her a stiff nod to continue.

"My relationship with Oliver is different and it's very intense. We're both very passionate people. I actually went to Hogwarts with him, he was the Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team for three years before he graduated my third year. We bumped into each other a few months ago and that's when it all started. I've been keeping something from you, and I did it because I didn't want to worry you."

"And that is?" Her mother asked with slightly narrowed eyes.

"After the war, Harry, Ron and I receive a lot of fan mail which is to be expected given our efforts. I...Erm...I had a stalker."

"What!"

"I ignored it at first, everything just seemed to be innocent and then it wasn't. He broke into my flat twice, he's the reason I moved."

"Hermione..."

"Please don't interrupt, it's hard enough to talk about," she spoke and they both reluctantly nodded. "I did have Kingsley and the Head Auror secretly working to find him, but the night I saw Oliver, we met in the club I own with Lee. He's a gentleman and this drunken witch wouldn't leave him alone no matter how many times he tried to be nice and asked her to leave him be, so I stepped in and scared her away. When I left, something happened. You don't need to know what, you just need to know that Oliver found me and saved my life. He took me back to his house and called for his personal healer who just happened to be Thomas."

"Your mentor, Thomas?" Her mother asked surprised.

"Yes, he's been Oliver's healer since he was born. He put me on a no travelling ban and Oliver allowed me to stay with him whilst I was healing, and we developed a fast friendship with us being together in close quarters. When I was allowed to leave and return home, we arrived at my apartment and there was someone there. He tried to kill Oliver and he injured me. I had to move again and with my stalker not yet having been found, Oliver insisted I stay with him for my safety, no one would know I was with him and his property has dozens of security wards. I became his roommate. Oliver's a professional athlete, he's the Captain of a professional Quidditch team and not long after I moved in with him, I was asked by the team's owners to become their team healer, as not only were half of the team already my patients, but I brought the neglect of the previous healer to their attention. At Christmas, when I left, it wasn't because there was an emergency, it was because the letter that came for me was from my stalker and I didn't feel safe. I went home and Oliver left his family to be with me, to take care of me. A few days later, they found him. He's gone now and I'm safe again."

"I'm relieved to hear that," her mother said softly. "And though I'm not pleased you kept such a thing from us, I understand your reasoning."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, Oliver attended with the Malfoy's Christmas Ball with me and we got stuck under some magical mistletoe and the only way to escape is to kiss the person you're stuck with. That night I realised that the feelings I had for him, they weren't just as a friend or someone I cared for, sometime during our time meeting and living together, I was falling in love with him. I thought my feelings were one-sided and I kept it from him. With my stalker gone, I no longer had to worry or live my life looking over my shoulder and Ginny convinced me to go on some blind dates. They were all awful, not because they were rude or arrogant or sexist, because they were, but because I couldn't stop comparing them to Oliver. Anyway, a few weeks ago Merlin knocked me into the pool..."

"Pool?"

"Oh right, Oliver has an indoor swimming pool," she explained, their eyes widening slightly as they looked to one another and then back to her. "He saved me and we kissed. It turns out my feelings weren't one-sided, he'd been hiding his feelings from me, too. We confessed we loved each other and he asked me to move in with him. We were already living together so it made no difference to us. We were friends _before_ we were partners. Despite the little time we've known each other, we've seen each other at our worst and our best. We've opened up to each other in ways we haven't anyone else. I don't just love him because he saved my life, it's not Nightingale Syndrome if that's what you're worried about. I love him, I love him like I've never loved anyone else."

"That's a lot to take in," her father muttered, pushing his greying hair back from his face.

"Now we know the circumstances surrounding your relationship, tell us, what's he like?" Her mother asked.

A smile pulled at Hermione's mouth, thinking about the wizard she loved more than anything else. "He's honestly one of the kindest and most generous people I've ever met. I know you think athletes are stupid," she looked to her father and he looked a little sheepish, "But Oliver's really smart. I took one look at his playbooks and had to put them back as I couldn't understand a word of it or even comprehend the little diagrams. He's a fabulous cook and I hate to say it, Mum, but he beats both you and Mrs. Weasley," she said, seeing her mother's mouth twitch in amusement. "He's so talented I can't even describe to you how good he is. He's very patient with me, we all know I have a temper and in the time we've known each other, he's never once raised his voice or insulted me, even by accident. He's so considerate, so much so that it's annoying. Do you know where he took me on our first official date? Paris! Bloody Paris!"

" _The_ Paris?" Her father questioned in surprise.

"Yes! _The_ Paris! And Valentine's Day, he took me away for the weekend to Paris, Rome _and_ Venice," she exclaimed, it still not having sunk in how amazing and relaxing her time away with Oliver had been. "Anyway, the reason I'm telling you about him is because we've been keeping our relationship quiet, not wanting the press to find out just yet so we can spend time together without the world getting involved. We're both celebrities and have a fan following, we just wanted some alone time together before we let everyone know about us. I've already met Oliver's parents before we even started dating, and they're lovely people, and now Oliver wants to meet you. Maybe he can join us for dinner tomorrow?"

Her parents looked to each other, seeming to have a silent conversation before her mother turned to her.

"We'd love to meet him," she said and Hermione smiled in relief. "Especially if he's so important to you."

"He really is, so Dad, please be nice to him. Don't threaten him or scare him away because I swear, I'll never forgive you. I know you just want to protect me, but you don't need to protect me from Oliver. I've never felt happier, safer and more appreciated than I do with him, not even with Harry. Oliver is _not_ Ronald, so please don't treat him as such. He really is a good man, one I'm sure you'll approve of once you meet him."

"You're my daughter, I'm never going to approve of _any_ man you bring home," he responded.

Her mouth twitched and her mother rolled her eyes. "I guess we'll see who's right tomorrow then, but right now, I better get back to work. The team gets worried when I'm away for longer than I said I would be," she rolled her eyes. "They're even worse than you are."

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate - Sunday 21st February 1999**

"It's not too late to cancel," Hermione spoke. "If you don't want to do this, I can just tell my parents you're not feeling well, as a healer they'll believe me."

"Am a wee bit nervous but a'll be fine once a get there," Oliver assured her with as big a smile he could muster given his current fraying nerves.

He was about to meet Hermione's parents, something he'd never had to do before. He'd heard horror stories from his peers back at Hogwarts of their first time meeting their girlfriend's fathers and he couldn't help but wonder how Hermione's father would take to him, nor could he stop Hermione's words from the night before from running through his mind, her informing him of every threat her father might use against him so he was prepared and wouldn't be surprised. Though he knew her intentions had been to calm him, right now, he wished she'd never told him.

"I've no doubt they'll love you, not as much as I do, of course, that would be creepy," she said and he found himself snorting, her words settling him a little bit.

"It's yer father am worried aboot," he admitted, moving over to the oven and removing the chicken pie from the shelf and setting it on the countertop, placing a Stasis Charm over it to keep it hot.

"He'll come around when he realises how wonderful you are," she said, coming up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and tilting to the side to peek around his shoulder. "You really didn't have to make a chicken pie, Oliver."

He snorted. "Ye jus' don't wanna share it."

"Well, yeah," she admitted. "Your chicken pie is _the_ best," she sighed appreciatively. "But still, they wouldn't expect you to bring anything with you given they're the ones hosting you."

"Exactly, so it'll show am serious aboot impressing them 'coz ye mean so much tae mae an' a don't want yer parents tae think mae a bad person."

"You're not a bad person, you're one of the greatest people I've ever met and they'll see that, too. You don't have to try so hard, just be yourself. Just be Oliver and I promise it'll be enough. It certainly is for me. If they don't like you, which I'm sure they will, it won't change my feelings for you. Though right now, I'm not happy about having to share a chicken pie with them."

He laughed at her, spinning around to face her and wrapping his arms around her in return, holding her against him.

"Then a guess it's a good thing there's another pie in the oven."

She sighed. "And this is why I love you," she said, reaching up to kiss him before pulling back.

"Do a look okay?" He asked, gesturing to his dark jeans and midnight blue jumper, the collar of his white shirt peeking out.

"Perfect, you look very handsome," she smiled. "Now, we better go before we're late, my parents appreciate punctuality given their professions."

~000~000~000~

**Granger Residence**

"Mum, Dad, we're here," Hermione called as she stepped out of the fireplace, brushing down her midnight blue jumper dress.

She hadn't meant for her and Oliver's outfits to match but once she'd saw his clothing, she couldn't be bothered getting changed, besides, it was both their favourite colours and she liked the dress she was wearing.

"Be right out, Dear," her mother called from the kitchen and Hermione gave Oliver's hand a squeeze when she felt him tense up beside her.

When her mother stepped into the living room followed by her father, Hermione smiled and left Oliver's side to greet them with hugs before she stepped back beside him, a proud smile gracing her face.

"Mum, Dad, this is Oliver. Oliver, these are my parents, Jean and Richard," she introduced.

"It's a pleasure tae meet ye, Mrs. Granger, Hermione's told mae a lot aboot ye," he said, giving his most charming smile, the one she knew would send his fans wild.

Her mother blinked in surprise, whether it was his accent or his handsomeness that had thrown her through a loop Hermione wasn't sure, but still, her mother smiled and stepped forward.

"And you, as well, Hermione has done nothing but shower you with praises, and please, call me Jean," she responded. Hermione refused to blush; she was proud of him and wouldn't be embarrassed of the fact.

Her mother took Oliver by surprise when instead of accepting his hand, she pulled him into a hug, giving her an amused look over his shoulder and mouthing words she couldn't quite understand, though Hermione was sure they were compliments. Oliver shifted nervously beside her when he pulled back before turning to her father.

"Mr. Granger," Oliver greeted, accepting her father's handshake and she narrowed her eyes when Oliver winced slightly. It had certainly hurt more than the handshake he'd shared with Lucius Malfoy at the Christmas Ball.

"Dad, what did I say? Be nice to him," Hermione said, taking Oliver's hand in hers and her eyes examining it closely. "He's our star player and if he's injured because of you, I won't be defending you against Coach Burton, who's bloody terrifying when you make him mad."

"I didn't do anything," he said innocently.

"You're a rubbish liar, it's where I get it from," she replied.

Her mother snorted. "She's right, Richard, do be nice to our guest."

"Oliver made a pie for dinner," Hermione drew her attention, gesturing to the covered dish she'd set down on the table upon their entrance.

"You didn't have to do that, Dear," she smiled.

"It was the least a could do tae say thank ye fer welcoming mae intae yer home," Oliver replied with a smile.

"Well, aren't you a sweetheart, Hermione wasn't kidding about that," she responded and Hermione beamed proudly. "Dinner should be ready very soon, if you'll excuse me I best make sure I don't over boil the vegetables. Hermione, Dear, would you give me a hand? Oliver, please make yourself at home."

Hermione made to argue but her mother reached for her hand, dragging her into the kitchen after she picked up the pie from the table. The moment they were out of sight and she set the pie down on the counter she turned to face her, quickly pulling her into a hug and a little squeal of excitement leaving her.

"Oh Goodness! He is just absolutely gorgeous and that accent..."

"Mum!" Hermione laughed in surprise. "Should I be worried about you stealing my boyfriend?"

"Don't be silly," she replied, pulling back from her. "He's much too young for me, and I love Richard, no matter how much he may annoy me at times."

"Well, wait until you taste his cooking, I'd happily die eating his chicken pie," Hermione said and her mother laughed.

"Well, it certainly smells delicious. Oh, imagine the look on your Aunts' faces when they meet him. Ha! And your cousins! They're going to be so jealous, oh, I can't wait to rub it in their faces."

"Mum, let's not scare him off just yet, remember, we've only officially been together a few weeks no matter how long we've loved each other. Please don't tell anyone yet."

"Oh fine," she huffed. "But you owe me, this is great gossip material for the family. I can already imagine the beautiful grandbabies you're going to give me," she sighed.

"Mum!"

~000~000~000~

Oliver sat in silence, squished against the armrest of the couch and doing his best not to fidget in his seat or to catch the gaze of Mr. Granger, of who, was currently staring at him as he sat back into the cushions of the armchair with his arms crossed over his chest.

"So, Oliver..."

Oliver took a breath and gathered his Gryffindor courage before looking to the older man. He could see the resemblance between him and Hermione but he thought she looked most like her mother.

"Hermione tells us that you live together."

"Tha's correct, Sir," he replied, clasping his hands together tightly to stop him from fidgeting. "A understand tha' this must be a lot fer ye tae take in, me own parents were rather surprised tae an' they already knew hoo a felt aboot Hermione."

"And how's that?" He asked, daring him to lie to him.

"A love her," he confessed, looking him straight in the eye so he would know he meant every word he spoke. "Yer've raised an incredible young woman, Mr. Granger. Anyone would be lucky tae have her heart an' affection an' a've never been more grateful tha' it's mae she took a chance on. It was me ma tha' made mae realise me feelings fer Hermione but a dinnae know she felt the same way an' a dinnae want tae put any pressure on her or make her feel as though she had tae feel the same way, so a never told her. When a found oot she was dating again, am not gunna lie, a hated it, a hated the thought af her bein' with someone else but a dinnae stop her 'coz a had naw right tae an' she deserved tae live her life the way she wanted. When she confessed her feelings tae mae, a've never been happier than a was in tha' moment or than a have been since meeting her."

He watched him carefully, his gaze never once moving from his face and seeing as he'd gotten his ear and attention, Oliver thought he might as well continue.

"A don't think mae admitting this is gunna do mae any favours, but Hermione's me first actual girlfriend." He saw her father's eyes harden. "Am not gunna lie, a was more af a one-night stand kind af guy, until a met her. A've never had a relationship 'coz am a very private person, a don't open up tae people easily. Between me wealth, fame an' career, someone always wants somethin' from mae an' tha's made mae cautious. A've never felt comfortable enough tae allow anyone tae get close tae mae, but Hermione broke doon those barriers withoot even tryin'. A love ev'rything aboot her; her intelligence, her wit, her kindness, her temper, her inability tae cook an egg," he spoke, seeing Mr. Granger's mouth twitch slightly, obviously knowing Hermione's lack of culinary skills. "There aren't many people tha' would be able tae handle me intense training schedule, tha' would be able tae handle me fame an' the crazy fans tha' come with the territory, an' admittedly, am a wee bit obsessed with me profession an' Hermione not only loves mae fer it, but she encourages mae tae do an' be better. She's one af the greatest things tae have ev'r happened tae mae."

"Oh Goodness, now you've done it,"

He looked over his shoulder, surprised to see Mrs. Granger stood in the doorway, dabbing at her eyes with the tea towel in her hand and sniffling.

"I'm sorry, I hadn't meant to eavesdrop," she said, moving further into the room and perching herself on the armrest of the armchair her husband occupied. "Hermione's popped to the shop to buy some wine, I hadn't realised we'd only a bottle left," she explained to the both of them as they looked to the doorway expecting Hermione to step in, too. "Please, Oliver, continue as I feel you have more to say."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Well, ev'ry night a fall asleep with her beside mae an' ev'ry mornin' a wake tae her hair attacking mae an' Merlin hogging the blanket," he started.

A laugh sounded from Mrs. Granger whilst her husband merely shifted in his seat, unfolding his arms and reaching to take his wife's hand in his, much like he'd seen his own parents do.

"A asked her tae officially move in with mae 'coz a wanted her tae know tha' am serious aboot wanting tae be with her. It's not jus' aboot sex.” He saw her father stiffen and he quickly continued. "A want a life with her, an' despite hoo long we may have known each other or hoo long we've been tagether, a feel it only right tha' a share me intentions with ye."

"And those would be?" Mr. Granger asked suspiciously.

Oliver took a moment to prepare himself for their reaction to what he was about to say. "Am gunna marry her."

Her mother gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth whilst her husband spluttered.

"Excuse me?"

"Am gunna marry her. Tha's hoo serious a am aboot wanting tae be with her. A want her tae be me wife, a want her tae be the mother af my children."

"Don't you think it's a little early to be making such declarations?" Mrs. Granger spoke, though he wasn't blind to the way she clung to her husband's hand or her eyes were hopeful.

"A really don't. Someday, am gunna marry her," he said confidently.

"Were you ever going to get permission from her father?" Mr. Granger asked, his face strangely neutral.

Oliver frowned slightly. "A wasn't aware tha' was a muggle tradition, but if it would make ye happy, then a'll do so."

"And what makes you think I'll allow you to marry my little girl?"

"Well, aside from the fact Hermione won't be happy if she finds out..." He trailed off, her mother laughing lightly and wiping at her teary eyes. "She's playin' again."

"I'm sorry?" He asked confused.

"The piano, she's playin' again."

"What?" They both whispered, looking to each other in surprise.

"A've a grand piano in me home, the night we confessed our feelings fer each other, a found her playin' in the grand piano room."

"But she hasn't played since she was..." She trailed off.

"Eight, anno, she told mae," he nodded. "She told mae ev'rything an' she said she found the motivation tae return tae it, she said am her inspiration. She's composing music, tae, she's been working on somethin' fer weeks now but won't let mae hear it until it's done."

"I can't believe..." She shook her head. "She swore she'd _never_ play again, and now, because of you... Thank you, Oliver..." She said quietly, wiping away the fallen tear that rolled down her cheek.

Oliver smiled and nodded. "A cannae take credit, a'd never intended fer such a thing tae happen, a dinnae even know she _could_ play until tha' night."

"But it's still thanks to you that she _is_ playing again. And she said you took her away for Valentine's Day?"

"Aye, she mentioned wanting tae travel an' a have the means an' funds tae take her anywhere in the world she wishes tae go. Am gunna make sure she has the life she wishes tae have, the life she deserves. Anno she doesn't care fer wealth an' material possessions an' tha' only makes mae wanna spoil her, tae treat her like she deserves. A'd do anythin' she asked af mae withoot question 'coz there's naw one tha' a love or trust more than her. Anno yer sceptical af me words given hoo long we've been tagether, so a'll prove it tae ye. Bobby," he called softly.

They both startled, letting out noises of surprise when the little house-elf appeared beside him, them staring at him as he was sure they'd never seen such a creature before.

"Master called for Bobby," he bowed.

"Bobby, why do ye answer tae Hermione's calls? Please tell Mr. an’ Mrs. Granger, Hermione's parents."

"Yes, Master," he said, turning to face them. "It's bes nice to meet the Miss' parents, I is Bobby, the Miss' and Master's elf," he bowed to them. "Bobby answers to the Miss 'coz Bobby knows the Miss bes his mistress. Elves magic be knowing when they be getting a new master or mistress. Bobby knowing Master will marry the Miss, Bobby's magic knows. Bobby's magic knows the Miss be the Mistress of the Manor, Bobby's magic not lie."

"Thank ye, Bobby, hoo is Merlin?"

"The small bear be sleeping in Master's and Miss' room, Bobby took the small bear for a walk and now he bes tired."

Oliver chuckled. "Thank ye, Bobby, ye may return home."

"Master, Miss' parents," he bowed before he was gone from sight.

"What just happened?" Mrs. Granger asked in surprise.

"Bobby's me house-elf, he's been with me family fer generations an' he's been me elf since the day a was born."

"House-elf, they the creatures Hermione said are slaves?" Her father asked, sending him a judgemental look Oliver didn't appreciate but he kept himself calm giving who he was.

"A house-elf withoot a mistress or master _will_ die. They must be bound tae a witch or wizard tae survive. House-elves _live_ tae serve, it's their purpose, it's what makes them happy. Me house-elves are treated very well, they're family tae meself an' me parents, we don't treat them any less than they deserve. They are not slaves, but family. Think af them as staff, maids, cleaners an' butlers, as anno some muggles have."

"Very well, what did he mean?"

"Every witch or wizard has someone tha' is their most compatible match, only one in ten find tha' person. The more compatible yer partner, the stronger yer relationship an’ healthier yer children will be. House-elves have their own magic, magic tha' allows them tae detect who is the most compatible match fer their master or mistress. Bobby _knows_ tha' Hermione's mine an' am hers. She's the next Lady Wood, the Mistress and Lady of House Wood once me mother passes."

"You're one of those Pureblood families, aren't you?" Her father said knowingly.

"Aye, a am, but we fought against You-Know-Who, a actually live in the Muggle World in the Scottish Highlands."

They both looked surprised but shook their heads.

"You're saying that you were _born_ to marry each other?" Mrs. Granger asked.

"Not in so many words, but we _are_ the most compatible fer each other. A _am_ gunna marry Hermione an' she _will_ be me wife, the mother af me children an' Lady Wood."

"Does Hermione know about this?"

"She doesn't," he shook his head. "An' am not gunna tell her, not until after we're married. A don't want tae scare her with this knowledge. A've got naw intentions af asking her now, am gunna wait a little while until the world knows aboot us an' we've been tagether longer. A want tae give her time tae get used tae the idea af bein' with mae long term. She may not know but her magic jus' might. It's probably one af the reasons why we're so comfortable 'round one another, why we're so open an' honest. Me parents were the same. They're both Purebloods an' were disowned 'coz they broke the arranged marriage contracts their parents had fer them, after falling in love at Hogwarts an' they married each other. Kipper is me father's elf an' he said the same thing tae me parents as Bobby did tae mae. They are each other's most compatible match an' every day a had the fortune af seeing hoo much they loved each other, they were never shy aboot showcasing it, unlike other Pureblood families. If me marriage tae Hermione is only half af what me parent's is, anno we'll both have happy lives. A love tha' little witch more than anythin' an' my intention _is_ to marry her an' have a family with her, whenever she's ready tae."

Oliver kept his gaze locked on Mr. Granger, briefly being aware of Mrs. Granger wiping at her eyes with the tea towel she still held.

"Well, after the way you spoke of your feelings for her, I suppose I couldn't ask for a better son-in-law," Mrs. Granger spoke softly.

"I'm back! Where is everyone!" Hermione called, startling them all and she stepped into the living room, her eyes narrowing when she felt the tense atmosphere. "Oliver, would you mind helping me set the table?" She asked, but he knew it was an excuse to get him alone.

"Sure, Damsel," he said, standing from the couch and leaving her parents and their surprised expressions behind.

"What have I missed?" She asked.

"Nothin' much, jus' a bit af grilling an' not the good barbeque kind," he replied.

She sighed. "I'm sorry I left you alone, Oliver. Mum promised me she'd keep dad in line."

"It's fine, a've faced worse in press interviews," he shrugged.

"I'm really grateful for you coming here with me; I know how uncomfortable and nervous you were, and I know my dad's not the easiest person to get along with."

He smiled and reached out to pull her into a hug. "I'd do anythin' fer ye, including putting me health on the line an' potentially losing me position on the team due tae injuries."

She laughed at him. "Still, I'm glad you finally got to meet them. Thank you and I love you."

"A love ye, tae, Damsel," he replied, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

Hearing a throat clearing, they both pulled back from each other when they saw her parents stood in the doorway, her mother with teary eyes and a secret smile on her face and her father with his eyes darting between them contemplatively.

"Right, let's get the table set and we can sit for dinner," Hermione said, turning towards a cupboard and pulling out plates and wine glasses.

As her mother walked past him she gave him a smile and moved to stand beside Hermione. When her father moved past him, he tensed slightly.

"You have my blessing," he muttered, sounding almost saddened by his decision.

Oliver didn't care, all of the tension suddenly left his body and for the rest of the night, he had a beaming smile on his face.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 10

**Wood Estate - Monday 22nd February 1999**

“If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late for work and I don’t know about you, but I’m not nearly enough awake to be dealing with Coach’s displeasure,” Hermione spoke, a soft sigh slipping from her lips as Oliver nuzzled at her throat and pressed gentle kisses against her skin and his fingertips traced soothing patterns against her waist beneath her blouse.

He hummed against her skin but despite her words, he made no move to pull back from her and neither did Hermione, her hands in his hair, keeping his head in place against her neck and her legs hooked around his hips, preventing him from stepping back from the counter he’d sat her on in the kitchen.

“A’d be the one getting shouted at, yer only required tae be there three days,” he muttered, his voice slightly muffled.

“Be I’d still be able to hear it all the way in my office,” she replied. “And noise such as that would prevent me from focusing and I doubt even a Silencing Charm could block it out; the man could give a harpy a run for their galleons.”

Oliver snorted and his lips blazed a trail of kisses across her throat and over her cheek until his mouth latched onto hers in a dizzying and consuming kiss that had Hermione considering pulling another sicky and staying at home in bed with him all day.

“A’ve a few errands tae run in Diagon Alley after work, so a’ll be home late,” he told her, drawing back from her and pressing his forehead against hers, allowing him chance to calm his breathing.

“Do you want me to do them for you?” She offered. “I thought about leaving early today, I need to meet with Lee, he wants to discuss business on the club, something about relocating to a bigger premises.”

“Ye havnae even been open a year yet,” he responded in surprise, but then again, he’d witnessed how busy the club could be and each time he went, it seemed to be crowded with even more people.

“I know, neither of us expected for the club to be so successful and in such little time. We knew it would get a little attention at first given it was the first new drinking establishment to be seen in Diagon Alley in decades, but we assumed the hype would eventually die down and people would get bored. We found a gap in the market and with our use of muggle and wizarding music and alcohol, we knew some would be intrigued but the majority of the population would be wary. But now, Lee’s sales analysis has shown we see a little over a thousand visitors per week with the majority of them, understandably, happening Friday to Sunday. Despite the expansion magic on the building, we’re quickly running out of space and if we don’t relocate to a bigger premises we risk breaking health and safety violations which result in fines and even closure.”

Oliver had never felt prouder of Hermione at hearing about the success that was her business and he pulled back to look down at her.

“So, are ye sticking tae Diagon Alley or moving somewhere else?” He asked curiously.

“Sticking to the Alley,” she nodded. “It’s the busiest shopping centre in Wizarding Britain and a central location, words been spreading about the success of the club and we’re even getting international visitors now, too. We might keep the building we have at the moment and use it for storage. He wants to hire more bar staff, too, improve the cocktail menus _and_ adjust the opening and closing hours, open earlier and shut later. I think he mentioned something about a function room as well, where we could host parties and events. If all goes to plan and everything’s successful, we may open a second club, but that won’t be for another year or two,” she said, a slight crease appearing in her forehead. “I can’t believe how fast all of this has happened.”

He smiled at her proudly. “It’s like ye said, yer’ve found a gap in the market, somethin’ they’ve never befere seen. An’ with a mind as brilliant as yers, ye were bound tae succeed.”

She hummed before giving her head a light shake. “Anyway, my offer stills stands, I’ll run the errands for you, I’ll be in Diagon Alley so it makes no difference to me.”

Oliver’s mouth tugged at the corners and he shook his head. “Naw, me da wants mae tae pick somethin’ up fer him an’ a think he’d be embarrassed if ye were tae see it,” he replied and she raised a curious eyebrow. “Anno there’s somethin’ a have tae do but a cannae remember what it is, am hoping tha’ me memory will be jogged when a get tae the Alley. Besides, ye work tae hard, a wouldn’t want ye doin’ me errands fer me jus’ ‘coz ye can. Ye can do with the break.”

“I work no harder than anyone else,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m not the one risking my life everyday by getting on a broom and having magical flying balls trying to kill me.”

He snorted. “Aye, but yer the one responsible fer patching us up. Yer’ve got a lot af pressure on ye tae ensure our health. If the team loses a player ‘coz ye couldn’t or dinnae know hoo tae heal them, the big bosses won’t be happy. If anythin’, yer’ve got more pressure on ye than we have tae win the league.”

“I don’t believe that,” she responded before lightly slapping at his shoulder, gesturing for him to step back from her. “But we really must leave now if we’re to get to work on time.”

“Ye can come an’ go as ye please.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine, _you’ve_ got to get to work on time.”

~000~000~000~

**Diagon Alley**

Staring up at the sign above, Oliver felt his stomach fill with nervous anticipation, a smile tugging at his lips and he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes, the hood pulled up not only to protect from the chill of the late afternoon, but to conceal his identity. If he was recognized and pictured stood before the establishment in front of him, he knew it would be made front page news and the witch hunt would begin.

In all honesty, he’d lied to Hermione. There were no errands to run and there was nothing his father needed him to collect for him. He just didn’t want her getting suspicious or even wishing to accompany him on his trip. This was something he needed to do alone and in secret.

The silver, looping lettering that read ‘Esmeralda’s Jewels’ contrasted against the black background and was adorned with a logo that was simply a tear drop diamond necklace with the chain wrapped around the ‘EJ.’ It was simple compared to the others seen in the alley and the shop was smaller than most, too, but it was also one of the newer businesses, having only opened within the last few decades compared to the other businesses which had been there for centuries.

This jeweller was one of three in Diagon Alley and it was the one that fell into the mid-price range, the others being too cheap and of a not so good quality, or too expensive and gaudy. Hermione wouldn’t appreciate or accept anything she believed to be too costly and he believed she deserved more than a cheap piece that was easily breakable or that might turn her skin an ugly shade of green, making this establishment, perfect.

He only knew of it as it was where his father generally tended to buy all of his mother’s jewellery, including her engagement ring and their wedding bands over twenty years ago. He swore by them and the owner happened to be the father of one of his colleagues from the Ministry. Given how often his father had visited the jewellers over the years, sometimes he’d just pop on by to have a chat with the owner given they’d become somewhat friends. Oliver had heard stories of those that worked there, one of which, was a young woman who just happened to be one of his fans and not wanting anyone to recognise him or freak out and draw attention to him, he prayed she wasn’t working that day.

Before taking a step forward and reaching out to push the door open, Oliver second guessed himself and paused.

Should he really be doing this?

He knew what he wanted in his life, he knew who he wanted that to happen with and now his parents knew and he had the blessing of Hermione’s parents, but should he be doing this _now_? Was it too soon? Was he being too presumptuous? He knew Hermione loved him, she told him every day, but what if he wasn’t the one she saw herself marrying?

They were each other’s most compatible but Hermione didn’t know that. She knew nothing of the bonds magic intended for people, she knew nothing of house-elf magic. And those that were each other’s most compatible didn’t actually have to live a life together. Some hated each other, some remained platonic and others married and had a family.

What’s to say Hermione wanted to be his wife and the mother of his children, that she saw herself being in his future or him in hers? What if one day she woke up and she didn’t love him anymore? First loves were known for being difficult, hard work, some even downright traumatising considering some of the horror stories he’d heard over the years. It was said nothing could quite beat one’s first love and most first love relationships didn’t last. He and Hermione were both each other’s first love, what if they didn’t work out? What if the stress and pressure of their jobs and the attention of the media drove them apart? What would he do then?

When someone bumped into him and muttered an apology as they scurried off, apparently in a hurry, he took a calming breath and released it slowly before shaking his head. Honestly, it’s not like he was going to propose right now, he just wanted to be prepared. Stepping forward, he pushed the door open and the bell above alerted the occupants to his presence as he stepped into the warmth of the dimly lit room.

His eyes quickly scanned his surroundings, seeing he was the only person in the shop before they lingered on the displays, disregarding the bracelets, necklaces, earrings and jewellery sets. When he spotted the selection of rings on display, he crossed over to them and pulled his hood down so it no longer restricted his view and his eyes examined the offerings before him, seeing the various designs, gemstones and metals but to him, none of them seemed to be what he had in mind, nothing screamed _Hermione_. In fact, scrutinizing them, he was sure they were just regular rings to be given without any meaning or promise.

“Can I help you?”

Oliver startled before looking over his shoulder, his gaze landing on the wizard that stood behind the largest glass display counter. His robes were almost as dark as his short hair but his eyes were a sharp green almost hidden by the round glasses perched on the tip of his hooked nose. Oliver wondered if he were a relative of the owner, a son or nephew possibly. Most businesses in the Wizarding World tended to be family run and whilst he hadn’t met the owner of the jeweller’s, he was sure the man before him was definitely a relative.

Oliver cleared his throat and turned, approaching the display counter and stopping before it, sending a quick glance down and seeing the pendants, chokers, armlets and tiaras. _Perhaps another time,_ he thought, before his gaze lifted.

Now that he’d stepped into the light of the candles that floated above, the wizard’s eyes widened a fraction, his mouth parting slightly as he stared at him.

 _Fan-fucking-tastic_ , Oliver thought with a sigh. He recognised him.

“Mr. Wood...” He trailed off before giving his head a shake, a wide smile pulling at his mouth. “What can I help you with?”

“A believe me da’s good friends with the owner af this jewellers, a know this is where he comes fer me ma, an he cannae give enough praise,” he started, seeing the man stand taller in pride. “He assured mae this is the place a should come.”

“We do our absolute most to ensure the happiness of each of our clients,” he nodded and spoke with pride in his voice.

“Great, an’ yer privacy policy?” He cocked an eyebrow.

“Oh, of course, all information is kept completely confidential, in fact, we pride ourselves on the matter. We have a stellar reputation in comparison to Madame Jewels and Garner’s Gems.”

“So anythin’ a may purchase...?” He trailed off questioningly.

“Absolutely confidential, it does not leave this room. As a matter of fact, given your celebrity status, your purchase records will be stored in a separate room which only myself and my father has access to, no one but us will ever see it.”

Well, that ruled out the woman that was supposedly a fan from searching the records and letting slip about his purchase.

Oliver eyed the wizard before him carefully, the older man shifting nervously before Oliver nodded once and slipped his hands into the pockets of his robes.

“Alright,” he said.

The wizard released a slow breath before he pulled his wand from his robes and sent a Locking Charm at the door which was followed by the roller blinds shutting, preventing anyone else from entering the building or peering in through the windows, giving Oliver not only his full attention for however long he needed it, but privacy, too.

“And what might I assist you with, Mr. Wood?” The wizard asked with a smile, his eyes practically gleaming in anticipation, whether it was to help him or of the galleons he’d be spending, Oliver wasn’t sure.

“Am in need af an engagement ring.”

Oliver had expected to be met with surprise, but it wasn’t in the form he’d thought. Rather than silence or staring, the wizard spluttered until it morphed into a coughing fit, his face turning red, his eyes watering and him gasping for breath. In concern, Oliver pulled his wand from his robes, conjured a glass and filled it with water, the wizard taking it gratefully and drinking half of it.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wood, I thought you said you required an engagement ring,” he said, stunned.

“Aye, a did an’ a do,” he confirmed with a single nod.

He was met with the staring and silence he’d been expecting the first time.

“I wasn’t aware you had a significant other,” he frowned slightly, looking at him curiously.

“Well a do, an’ given me position on the team an’ me status, a havnae made it public knowledge. A wish tae protect me girlfriend from any af me obsessive fans fer as long as a can, an’ by ensurin’ we’re not in the papers, she can live her life an’ our relationship remains private, especially as she has quite the fan base herself.”

“Right,” he cleared his throat, understanding the meaning behind his words. “And what is her name?” He questioned. Oliver raised an eyebrow and the wizard blushed. “Oh, you misunderstand me, Mr. Wood. If you say your partner has fame like yourself, then it’s likely I’ll know of her. When choosing a ring for such an occasion, knowing more about the witch can be quite important to ensure the correct piece is selected.”

“Yer’ll know her name, a can guarantee,” Oliver replied, feeling amused. “But a dinnae wish tae tell yer it, we both made a promise tae not reveal our relationship until the time is right, if am honest, only our parents know. A’m confident a know me girlfriend well enough tae choose somethin’ she’d like.”

The wizard shifted on his feet and nodded. “For starters, any preferences?”

Oliver frowned in thought. “Not really,” he admitted. “She’s not a materialistic person, a have tae fight her when it comes tae accepting any gift a give her. She isnae one fer anythin’ flashy or gaudy, an if it’s tae expensive anno she’ll make mae bring it back, but saying tha’, a don’t have an actually budget set, money is no issue.”

The wizard’s eyes flashed. “I’ll show you a selection of our most popular designs and should you not like any of them, we have many others available, but should you wish to, we have the option of a bespoke ring.”

“Bespoke?” Oliver questioned.

“Yes, a ring that is designed by yourself, something that is truly unique, a one of a kind if you will.”

Oliver frowned thoughtfully, liking the idea of having a one of a kind ring for a one of a kind witch.

“A’ll take a look at the rings fer inspiration, but am leaning towards a bespoke ring.”

“Wonderful,” the wizard’s eyes gleamed before he made a sweeping motion with his arm, gesturing towards a display case off to the left and Oliver followed after him.

It took barely any time at all for him to examine the different designs and precious stones and metals before deciding he didn’t feel any of them were the right fit and it just cemented his decision to create one himself.

“Would a have tae place an order an’ collect it once it’s finished?” Oliver asked, returning to the main counter with the wizard.

“Not at all, Mr. Wood,” he replied. “As long as I have the details and the confirmation on the final design, I am able to create the ring where I now stand and you may leave with it this evening. I just need the details so I may collect the materials from the back.”

Oliver leaned against the counter and looked down at the items below once more, his mind piecing together several of the rings he’d seen until he created one unique design. Biting his lip, he hoped it turned out how he imagined it would.

“Firstly, the design,” he started, a quill poised and hovering over some parchment as he looked to him expectantly.

“If a don’t like it?” Oliver questioned.

“Then I shall stay as long as you need until we have one you are happy with.”

“Well, let’s hope we can get this on the first try, a told me girlfriend a was running some errands, she’ll get worried if am not home soon.”

“You live together?” The wizard questioned in shock.

“Aye, an’ we have a dog, tae,” he responded, amused by his surprised expression. “Anyway, let’s get this sorted.”

~000~000~000~

Almost an hour later, Oliver stood by the counter having just finished writing down his vault information so payment could be made, and he stared down on the ring that he held between his index finger and his thumb.

He was not only surprised that he’d approved the design on the first attempt, that the wizard had created a rather impressive ring right before his eyes and so quickly, too, that the ring looked far better than what his imagination had conjured, but that the total cost for service and materials was cheaper than he’d been expecting, too, especially given the components of the bespoke ring.

The eighteen carat, half twisted white gold bold was embedded with small diamonds covering half of the surface and it sat a generous round sapphire, so deep a blue Oliver would say it was similar to midnight blue, not only Hermione’s favourite colour, but her favourite gemstone, too. The sapphire was surrounded by a halo of smaller, brilliant white diamonds, and the ring was set with a Size Adjustment Charm as he didn’t know Hermione’s ring size. It was also equipped with a series or runes carved on the inside of the band, meant to represent protection, fidelity, family, love, trust and loyalty, all of the things Oliver would vow and had vow to give her.

He’d thought that making such a huge decision regarding his life and his future would scare him, but despite the little wobble he’d had before entering the shop, he’d honestly never been surer about anything in his life. He wanted to marry Hermione. He wanted her to be his wife and the mother of his children. He wanted to have little Quidditch obsessed, piano playing, flour covered, brown eyed, curly-haired children running around, filling the manor and grounds with peals of laughter as they destroyed anything and everything they could get their hands on. He dreamed about it often enough and he wanted it to be his reality.

He’d wanted to get the ring now not only so he was prepared but because he’d gotten permission, blessings from both their parents and now everything just seemed more real, more definitive. He had no problem with popping the question the moment he got home but he couldn’t be selfish. He had to give Hermione a little more time to think about what she wished to happen in her life, in her future and he hoped it would include him, he had every intention of making sure it did.

His mouth tugged into a smile and when he heard footsteps and the rustle of parchment, he lifted his gaze, seeing the wizard approaching the counter. Oliver placed the ring into the safety of the silk cushion and snapped the velvet box closed, just as the parchment was held out to him.

“Your receipt of purchase, Mr. Wood,” he said and Oliver took it and slipped it into his pocket along with the ring box. “Should you wish for a refund, the ring must be returned with the receipt of purchase no later than three months. If you bring it back after that time, we won’t be able to refund you the full price but we may buy the ring off you. Should you have any issues regarding damage or ineffective spell work within the first two years, repairs will be free of charge, after which, the warranty ends and payment will be required.”

“Thank ye fer yer help, me dad wasnae kidding aboot the service here, a’ll be sure tae return in the future.”

The wizard stood taller with pride. “And we would be happy to see you return, Mr. Wood,” he replied.

They both heard the noise outside pick up, with it being February and the days turning to night quicker, the night life picked up in the early evening.

“We have a floo connection you may use should you wish to not be seen leaving,” he offered.

“Thanks, a’d appreciate tha’,” he nodded and followed the wizard into the back and down a corridor, stepping into a cluttered but clean office.

Oliver reached for the floo powder, grabbed a handful and stepped into the fireplace, turning to face the wizard.

“Thank ye, yer’ve been a life saver, a’ll have three VIP tickets sent tae yer fer our match next week.”

The wizard’s surprised splutters were left behind as he called out the address and dropped the powder into the grate.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

Oliver stepped out of the floo and into his living room, immediately being greeted by an overexcited Merlin as he jumped up at him. Oliver chuckled before indulging the large dog with a scratch behind the ears and he soon calmed, turning his attention to thrashing around a toy in his mouth.

Both hearing the noise in the kitchen and picking up on the distinct smell of garlic, onions and pasta, Oliver knew Hermione was preparing dinner that evening and that meant it was Spaghetti Bolognese, the only dish she could actually make without potentially giving them both food poisoning.

Chuckling to himself, he headed for his bedroom and made quick work of stashing the ring and receipt inside his underwear drawer, somewhere Hermione would never need to search through, before he removed his robes and changed out of his training garb, instead dressing in a t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms.

He headed for the kitchen, snorting when he crossed through the living room and saw Merlin accidentally throw his toy across the room having let go of it with his teeth, and the impatient dog bounded over the couch rather than walking around it, pouncing on the toy and skidding to a stop when he crashed into the other couch.

Stepping into the kitchen, he paused for a moment, all too happy to watch Hermione as she put the finishing touches on the cake she was icing, putting the piping bag off to the side and sucking the icing off her finger. Looking to the oven, he could see the pasta simmering and the sauce looked to be done, too, ready for him coming home.

He snuck up behind her, pushing her against the counter as he wrapped his arms around her and pressed himself against her, not being all that surprised when she didn’t startle so much, likely having heard him arrive home, Merlin’s greeting having not exactly been quiet.

“Hey,” she smiled up at him as she looked over her shoulder.

“Hi,” he replied, bending to press a kiss to her lips.

“So, did you remember what you needed to do?”

“Aye, a did,” he replied, and she raised an eyebrow when he didn’t elaborate further.

“And you got everything you needed?”

“Aye, a’thing’s perfect,” he promised with a secret smile.

“Okay, well, dinner’s ready, it just needs plating up and I’ve already grated the cheese, it’s on the table, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“Starving,” he nodded, his head burying in her neck and she sighed as he placed gentle kisses against her skin.

“I thought you said you were hungry.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “We can have both.”

Her eyebrows rose high on her forehead, not that he could see. “Are you suggesting we have _food sex_?”

“There’s somethin’ tae be said aboot food sex,” Oliver mumbled against her neck.

“And you know this how?”

“A’ve never tried it meself but a’ve heard Wilks regale tales af it in the locker room.”

Hermione grimaced, her nose scrunching up in disgust.

“I absolutely did _not_ need to know that,” she replied, barely stopping herself from retching. “Oh for Merlin’s Sake, now I can’t get the image out of my head and I’m not entirely sure what it is my imagination’s conjured up. I’m never going to be able to look at him again now. Ew, now I’ve been put off my food.”

Oliver laughed. “Alright then,” he said, reaching around her to turn off the hob. “Then jus’ regular sex it is.”

Before she saw it coming, he’d swopped down, picked her up and put her over his shoulder as he turned and marched for the bedroom. 

“You said you were hungry,” she laughed.

“A’d rather have ye than dinner, besides, a quite enjoy working up an appetite,” he said, swotting her on the arse, pulling a squeak from her which morphed into a laugh. “An’ a’ve gotta admit, Damsel, the frilly pink apron an’ flour-covered cheeks are really doin’ it fer mae.”

“Oliver!”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count:28

**Wood Estate – Friday 26th February 1999**

"So, where are we heading tamorrow?" Oliver asked, watching over Hermione's shoulder as she magically moulded the biscuits into the shape of a flying figure on a broom, before she levitated them into the oven to bake and turned her attention to moulding the second batch into the shape of a golden snitch, wings and all.

His mouth tugged at the corners and he snorted before turning his head and pressing a kiss to her cheek, his arms folding around her a little tighter and his gaze darted over to the bacon in the pan, making sure it wasn't burning before he turned his eyes forward.

"Tomorrow?" She questioned.

"Aye, where are we spending the weekend? Florence? Prague? Bulgaria?"

"We might run into Viktor," she mused thoughtfully.

"Not Bulgaria," he decided and she laughed at him. "Definitely _not_ Bulgaria."

"You know, Viktor was good to me."

"Doesn't mean a have tae like him," he muttered.

"Are you jealous?" She teased.

"Jealous?" He scoffed.

"Jealous," she confirmed, twisting to look up at him over her shoulder, snorting at the scowl on his face. "Relax, as much as I adored Viktor, _I love you._ There's nothing for you to worry about, I promise." She assured him, reaching up to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw before facing forward and sending the biscuits to the second oven to bake and then reaching out, turning off the hob to stop the bacon from burning. "Besides, have you forgotten?"

"Forgotten?" He questioned.

"I'll take that as a 'yes'," she chuckled. "I won't be here."

"Why?" He frowned, pulling back from her and she turned to face him, being trapped between the counter and his body as she stared up at him and he pressed his hands against the surface.

"It was only the other day, do you seriously not remember?"

"Not really," he admitted.

"I'm taking my mum and your mum away for the weekend."

"A thought tha' was jus' a hypothetical conversation. A what-if type af thing."

"And it was, until my mum sent word that she really needed some time away from work and given everything your mum's been through lately, we decided it a good idea to head out for a spa weekend. Your mum's got her last chemotherapy treatment on Tuesday before our next meeting with Dr. Clay. You've seen how the treatment can affect a person, and she's been under a lot of stress lately, this will be good for her."

"Does me ma know aboot this?"

"Yes, I floo called on Monday and she was so excited to have this time with me. She called it a girl's bonding weekend, mentioned she'd always wanted a daughter and I was the closest thing to one she's ever had, and she and my mum got on pretty well at dinner."

Oliver had seen. He and Hermione had thought it a good idea to get their parents together, a chance to meet one another now that it was all out in the open between them, and so the previous Sunday, they'd had dinner at Hermione's parent's house, the six of them. They didn't want to overwhelm her parents by bringing them to a wizarding house, nor to Wood Estate as they had no idea of just how wealthy he was or of the fact he owned an estate with guesthouses on the property, and the news would likely surprise them, too. They'd gone for the safer option of dining at the Grangers, somewhere they'd be more comfortable.

His and Hermione's mother had gotten on like a house on fire, often being found whispering and giggling between one another like school girls as they sipped at wine. They'd had two bottles between them and had been quite tipsy, if not drunk, by the end of the night. It didn't take a genius to understand what they were talking about given the way their eyes darted between him and Hermione, both of them in the know about his intentions of one day marrying her. Oliver couldn't even find it himself to be annoyed at their less than obvious staring and potentially throwing a spanner in the works because he'd never seen his mother happier.

There had been a little tension between his father and Hermione's, especially since Mr. Granger had spent most of the evening scowling at him regardless of the fact he officially had his permission to marry his daughter, and that was something his father had taken offence to. Once the alcohol was flowing and they convened in the living room, their fathers gathered around the TV with Hermione's father explaining the basics of the muggle sports game that was playing. After that, there hadn't been a problem, the two men had bonded over sports and their attention had been drawn for nearly two hours.

The future in-laws had finally met and seemed to get along well, which brought him one step closer in building a life with Hermione.

But he'd have to have a talk to his mother, remind her to be careful about she said when around Hermione.

"I told you days ago, but then, you did have your head buried in a playbook so you probably weren't paying much attention."

"Sorry, Damsel," he sighed. "It's jus', it's game day an' a have tae get the team ready."

"I know," she nodded. "And I know that no matter the outcome this afternoon, you'll play brilliantly and I'll be proud of you. It's not all about the winning."

"It is," he disagreed and she snorted at him.

"Regardless, I know you'll do great. And to keep the team motivated and their sugar levels up, I've made Quidditch inspired biscuits," she gestured to the ovens with a tip of her head, "And I'm about to make a start on the brownies, Malloy's wish." Oliver arched an eyebrow. "Come on, he's earned a little favouritism, he's doing great and hasn't had a drink since New Year's. But never mind that, my dad's taking your dad fishing this weekend, and wants to know if you'd like to go, too."

"Fishing? With him?" Both eyebrows shot up.

"Yes, fishing, but if I'm honest, there's likely to be less fishing and more getting drunk around a campfire. I'm not going to force you to go or ask anything of you, but I do think this could be good for you. I know my dad's hard to get along with and I know he's protective of me, I think he just wants time to figure you out, without me being there."

If Oliver was honest, he was terrified of being alone with her father but not only did he know this could be beneficial to him, he wouldn't be alone as his father would be there, too.

"A suppose a could go,"

"Really?"

"Really,"

She beamed up at him. "Great, I'll let him know and I'll get the details for you later. Your mum's flooing over tomorrow morning, we're going to my parents and we're driving down to the spa retreat. We're all booked in for the weekend and I'll be back Sunday night. I told my dad you work Saturdays so you'll probably meet up after training."

"Will ye be here in the mornin'?"

"I don't think so, I'll be leaving before you wake. Coach knows I won't be at work tomorrow, and you'll have to leave Merlin here, it'll be suspicious otherwise. As for the fishing trip, if you want to take him with you, that's fine, but if you want to leave him here, I know Bobby'll take care of him."

"He will," he nodded in agreement.

"Well, I'm just going to pop to the bathroom, you finish breakfast and I'll make the brownies before we leave."

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium**

"Hey, Wood? Where are you going?" Pallie called from down the corridor. "We have to do the after-match interview."

"Anno, Pallie, but a hurt me shoulder durin' the match, Am gunna see Granger an' get it looked at befere a make it worse. Ye take the lead on this one."

"Yeah?" He asked in surprise.

"Aye, it's all yers, ye were the highest scoring player af the match, yer've earned it."

"Oh, right, thanks. I'll see ya in the locker room in a bit then," he replied, his eyes lingering on him a little longer before he shook his head, turned and jogged down to the huddled team, all waiting outside the door that would lead them into the conference room.

Once he was gone, he continued on his path, accepting greetings and acknowledgements from the staff at the stadium and nodding and smiling in return, until he came to a stop at the door leading to the medical bays. He knocked twice before he stepped inside, closed the door behind him and before he'd even had the chance to turn around and brace himself, arms were wrapped around him, squeezing tightly and he fell back against the door.

"Congratulations!" Hermione squealed happily, hugging him tightly. He laughed and settled his arms around her, holding her against him. "I can't believe you won. Well, I can, I knew you had it in you, but still, I can't believe you won! And with zero injuries! Best day ever!"

"A take it yer happy," he laughed.

"So happy, for you, and, of course, me too; I didn't have to heal you. I hate being stuck in the Coach's box, the best seats in the entire bloody stadium means the worse everything is for me, and I bloody well near had a heart attack when that bludger almost collided with your head. Anyway, congratulations. I'm so proud!"

He snorted. "Does tha' mean a get a kiss fer winning?"

She pulled back from him, arching an eyebrow. "You've just won against the Harpies, one of the top five teams in the league, and all you can think about is me giving you a kiss? Something you get from me every day?"

"Aye, a don' need a trophy when a've got ye at home."

"Oh, so I'm a victory prize?"

"Damsel, yer so much more than tha'," he muttered, lowering his head and pressing his mouth against hers, stealing her breath and senses with a dizzying kiss that left her lightheaded and wondering when the hell he'd backed her up and sat her on the examination table.

"Yer coming oot tae celebrate with us, right? Yer every bit a member af the team as anyone."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Oliver," she sighed.

"Anno what happened last time was... Well, ye know, but ye won't be alone. Ye'll have mae an' the team, they're more protective af ye than yer da is."

Hermione snorted, knowing it was true. Merlin forbid she sneezed.

"That's not what I was referring to. I meant, I don't think it's a good idea for us to go out together, not yet at least. No one knows about us yet which means they'll think we're both single."

"An' what? Ye don' trust mae?"

"No, I didn't say that. I don't trust _them_. Do you think you can control your anger or jealousy if a guy were to hit on me?" She asked, seeing his brow furrow. "Yeah, exactly, and to be honest, I don't know how I'd react if the roles were reversed. And if any of the team see our reactions, they'll put two and two together..."

"An' our cover will be blown," he finished with a nod. "But is tha' really such a bad thing?"

"We both agreed..."

"Anno," he interrupted. "We did, an' a've loved havin' ye all tae meself, but am gettin' tired af hiding. Am not sayin' we have tae go public by shoutin' from the rooftops, a jus' want tae be able tae kiss me girlfriend whenever a feel like it. Am gettin' tired af havin' tae hide our relationship when we're at the stadium. The others already suspect somethin', anno they do, especially since Merlin's always following mae 'round the place an' he listen tae mae more than he does anyone else. A bet tha' even if we were tae go oot tagether, given hoo crowded the Alley is at night, especially at the weekend, a don' think anyone would see us an' there's not gunna be reporters oot an' aboot, is there? Damsel, it's been twa months. I think it's time."

"You... You know how long it's been?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Aye, twa months exactly taday."

He found himself surprised when Hermione's mouth latched onto him, his head going fuzzy as she stole the oxygen from his lungs and when she finally released his mouth and pulled back, he blinked slowly at finding himself laid on the examination with Hermione straddling his stomach, staring down at him. When the hell did that happen?

"You want to go public?"

"Maybe not _public_ , but a don' want tae hide anymore. Believe it or not, the public aren't tha' perceptive or observant. Hoo many times have we been oot tagether an' we havnae been seen, cloaks an' hoods regardless? A don' doubt we'd never hear the end af it from the team an' they'd tease mae, ye, they're scared af so they'll leave ye alone..." She snorted. It was true, all she had to do was threaten to place them on a no-fly ban or to stop baking and they'd do anything she wanted. "An' they'd never disrespect our privacy by goin' tae the press or talkin' aboot it tae someone who might spill. It's one af the few rules we have as a team, don' reveal anythin' aboot another's private life, an' it's one we _all_ respect. If it were tae get oot, it wouldn't be 'coz af one af them."

"You really want to do this?"

"Aye, ye don'?"

"I'm not ashamed of you, Oliver. I could _never_ be ashamed of you, I love you too much to ever feel such a thing. Are we ready to deal with the press? They might not get wind of us straight away but when they do, you know what'll happen. Your fans will target me much like Viktor's did and I'm not up to having to defend myself from attacks coming at me from all angles."

"A won't let anyone hurt ye, a promise."

They held gazes for a small moment before Hermione nibbled at her lip and then slowly nodded.

"Give me a couple of weeks, just until we've told Harry and the Weasleys, and then no more hiding. I promise."

"Couple weeks?"

"Yes, they should hear it from me, not see it in the papers. And the fundraiser's set to happen in a couple of weeks. I don't want to take attention away from something so important should word about us get out. What d'you think would be front-page news? A fundraiser for an orphanage, or Star Quidditch Player and Captain, Oliver Wood dating War Heroine, Brains of the Golden Trio, Hermione Granger."

"A see yer point, the kids deserve better than tha'. Alright, we'll wait till after the fundraiser an' yer've told the others, but then naw more hiding. Deal?"

"Deal," she nodded.

A knock on the door startled them both and Hermione almost fell to the ground before Oliver's reflexes kicked in and he was able to steady her. He gave her an amused look whilst she scowled at him and climbed off him, stepped back from the table and smoothed out her robes, being glad he'd found the strength to keep his hands from her hair. That was something she wouldn't be able to fix or hide. Oliver sat up and righted his rumpled clothing before giving Hermione a nod and she called for the person on the other side of the door to enter. She'd expected one member of the team to come in search of Oliver eventually, not all of them.

"What's the verdict?" Thompson asked, being the first to step into the room with the others following behind him in a crowd.

"He'll live, just a few dislocated fingers, easy fix," she smiled.

"I thought it was your shoulder that was bothering you," Pallie arched an eyebrow, his mouth twitching as his gaze darted between them, none of them missing the way Hermione's eyes widened a fraction.

"Oh, that was from a previous injury, nothing a little Numbing Cream can't handle. Anyway, congratulations, boys, you played wonderfully this afternoon."

They all seemed to stand taller and puff out proudly as they beamed at her, successfully guiding the attention away from her and to them.

"Thanks," Malloy grinned. "We're gunna jump in the showers and then head out for a few celebratory drinks," he said. Hermione cocked her eyebrow and folded her arms over her chest. "And by that I mean I'm on pumpkin juice and they're going to get so smashed, they might not make it to practice in the morning," he explained and Hermione snorted when they others nodded in agreement.

"So, Healer Granger, you're coming with us, right? You're just as much a part of this team than anyone. Without you, we wouldn't be fit enough to even get on the pitch let alone win the match," Pallie said.

"Oh, I don't think so, boys, maybe next time."

"You said that last time," Kings noted. "Come on, come out with us, protect us from the fangirls."

"Please," she scoffed. "Like you really want me to scare off the fangirls."

"Only the crazy ones," Wilks piped up and she snorted at him. "Come on, please. I'm dying to see what type of drunk you are."

"I'm not stupid enough to get drunk. A little tipsy or merry, maybe, but never drunk. I know my limit. And I can't, I have to be up early in the morning, I'm going away for a spa weekend with my mother."

"Really? Well, not entirely sure what that is, but you deserve a break, you work too hard," Malloy commented.

"No harder than you," she shrugged.

"Yeah right," he snorted. "I know I'm a pain in the arse, and I know they're a pain in the arse," she gestured around him with his thumb, wincing against the barrage of slaps and punches he received. "Not only do you have to deal with us and Coach Grump, you bake for us near enough every day _and_ attend to your private healer's duties. I don't know how you keep up with it all. Do you ever sleep?"

"Like a baby, thanks for asking. I really don't think I should be out tonight."

"A few drinks won't harm you. Come on, we're proud to have you as part of the team. Let us show you off," Thompson grinned.

"Oh, so I'm a trophy healer, fabulous," she sighed and they sniggered at her.

"Don't be so miserable, let's have some fun. Wood, what do you think?"

All eyes turned to him questioningly and he turned his gaze to Hermione, his mouth twitching into a smirk and she barely stopped herself from glaring at him.

"They're right, Granger, ye should come oot with us fer a bit. Scare the crazies away, have a few drinks, a bit af dancing, it'd be a laugh," he shrugged. "In fact, it's an order."

"Ha! Take that!" Pallie called, looking at her smugly.

She rolled her eyes. "In this room, _I_ have the most authority."

"Regarding health an' well-being, sure, but a've authority over ev'rythin' else," he shrugged.

"Not over me or my personal actions, whether I'm at the stadium or off duty," she pointed out. "But to save you an argument you'll surely lose, I'll agree to _one_ drink."

"Four," Kings countered.

"Two," she narrowed her eyes.

"Three, and then we'll let you leave without argument and be on your merry way, possibly feeling a bit merry depending on your drink of choice," Malloy said.

"You know, Ben, there are such things as non-alcoholic cocktails, right?"

"There is?" He questioned in surprise.

"Yes,"

"Oh, awesome," he grinned. "Well, you get yourself home and spruce yourself up a bit whilst we jump through the showers. We'll meet you back here in half an hour."

"It doesn't take me that long to get ready," she rolled her eyes. "I'll see you in fifteen. Now get out, I just need to check there's no lasting effects from my spell work and I'll give Oliver the all-clear."

"Well, we're planning on the Crimson Lion," Pallie informed her.

"Oh, like that place do you?" Her mouth twitched.

"You kidding! It's _the_ best. You ever been?"

"Yes, a few times," she smiled angelically.

"Then you know what we're talking about."

"Hang on, why d'you have that look on your face?" Thompson asked.

"Look? What look?" She questioned innocently.

" _That_ look," he clarified. "It's suspicious. You know, now that I think about it, since you started working here, we've been getting free or half price drinks at the Lion," he eyed her suspiciously.

"Now that you mention it," Pallie said, his gaze trailing her too innocent smile carefully. "I'm sure I've heard some of the bar staff mention a silent partner, someone who had knowledge of the muggle aspect side of the business."

"And you _are_ a Muggleborn," Wilks jumped in.

"Hang on a damn minute, it's you. Isn't it? _You're_ the silent partner," Kings said, his eyes wide in surprise.

Hermione's smile widened. "Well, I guess the game's up. Yes, I own half of the Crimson Lion, and yes, you get free or half price drinks whenever you stop by 'cause I told the staff you've got the family discount. Now, I'd appreciate it if you kept this information to yourself."

"Yeah, right," Pallie nodded, eyeing her in a way he hadn't before. "Not gunna lie, that's surprised me a bit," he shook his head. "Right then, I aren't half glad I didn't bad-mouth the place right in front of you," he said, snorts and mutters of agreement ringing out.

"Scared of me?" She arched her eyebrow.

"No, _terrified_ ," he corrected and she snorted.

"Smart man, now, off you go, I'll see you shortly."

Their eyes remained on her for a little while longer before they each turned and left out the door, closing it behind them. She waited until she could no longer hear their voices or footsteps before turning to Oliver.

"Happy now?" She asked, seeing his pleased smile.

"Aye, very," he nodded. "A mean, this'll be the first time we're seen in public tagether an' whilst we won't be alone, it's still one step closer tae comin' clean 'boot our relationship."

"I mean it when I say I can't stay long. I do have to leave early and even with a Hangover Potion, it'll take a while for it to clear any nausea or headache I might have."

"Anno, when ye leave, a'll stay behind fer a bit an' then make me excuses an' leave, a'll see ye at home."

She nodded. "So, anything, in particular, you want to see me in?"

"What?"

"Well, if I'm going out for a few drinks, I'm certainly not going out to find myself a wizard or impress anyone, so if I dress up, it's for _you_. So, is there anything you'd like to see me in?"

"A dunno," he frowned thoughtfully.

"What about colour? Midnight blue, maybe? Or perhaps something different, something you haven't seen me in before. Maybe white, or black, or red," she offered.

"Red, definitely red," he said, his eyes trailing her robe covered body, knowing every inch, freckle and scar by memory.

"Red it is," she smiled, stepping closer to press a quick kiss to his mouth and then stepping back. "I'll be back soon."

~000~000~000~

 **Diagon** **Alley**

"You're staring again," Malloy's voice rose to be heard over the music and Hermione tore her eyes away from Oliver who was stood at the bar ordering the next round of drinks, but he was surrounded by a group of scantily dressed women.

The moment she'd returned to the stadium, she'd been greeted by catcalls and whistles, and comments of how she cleaned up nicely and how lucky there were to have the prettiest witch as their date for the evening. Hermione hadn't been able to stop the blush that spread across her cheeks and when she ducked her head at their teasing of her embarrassment, her eyes had landed on Oliver, his gaze heated and intense and locked on her.

She was sure that her dress was far more conservative than most of the outfits she'd seen women wearing when on a night out, but that didn't seem to bother Oliver, and it wasn't as though it had taken her hours to get ready either. In fact, she'd barely done anything at all and she'd spent most of her time trying to do the zip up in the back of her dress, getting annoyed and eventually resorting to magic. She'd done nothing but have a quick wash and brush her hair, pinning a few strands back from her face with glittery pins. After applying a small amount of mascara and some glittery eyes shadow, she'd slipped on the dress of her choice, transfiguring the colour from black to red.

She'd purposely chosen a long-sleeved dress to hide the slur on her left arm, but the off the shoulder style showed the column of her neck, her collar bones and her shoulders. The neckline hinted at cleavage and the fabric fit to every curve, showing her figure before ending just below her knees, hugging her tightly. The matching silver purse and her favourite strappy heels finished the look.

They'd soon headed to the Crimson Lion, apparating into Diagon Alley and walking the short distance from the apparition point. It was still early, the nightlife just starting to pick up when they reached their destination and despite that, the line to get in had been quite long but that hadn't been a problem. Even if security hadn't of recognised her as their boss and allowed them straight entrance for free, she'd have been able to take them through the staff entrance.

The music, partying and drinking had already been in full swing, the club filled to capacity, reminding Hermione that she and Lee had to find a new premises as soon as possible. They'd headed to one of the VIP booths and all squeezed in, Hermione being placed in the centre of the team, 'to keep the wizards away' they'd told her and she'd rolled her eyes.

The three drinks she'd promised had turned into four, then five, and now she was on cocktail number nine, or at least, she thought she was. She couldn't be sure, her head was starting to get a little fuzzy and knew she should stop soon. She'd danced with most of the team, being well aware of Oliver's eyes on her even from across the dance floor, she'd laughed and drank and had some fun, the team couldn't argue if she decided it was time for her to leave.

"Staring?"

"Yeah, staring,"

"Correction, this is in fact, a glare," Pallie piped up, reaching over and pushing a full cocktail in front of her and prying the empty glass she was gripping tightly from her hand, being afraid it might actually shatter.

"A glare?" She questioned, her eyes narrowing as one of the women placed a hand on Oliver's shoulder and leaned in closer to him. She released a slow breath when he smiled politely and removed her hand from him.

"Yes, a _glare_. What reason would you have for glaring?" He arched an eyebrow, his mouth twitching into a smirk as the rest of the team turned their eyes to her.

"No reason, just watching out for him. I know a galleon digger when I see one, and I know a bitch when I see one," she replied innocently, taking a large sip from her glass and her hand tightening around the stem as a second witch touched Oliver's arm, which he shrugged off. "All they want is their name and face on the front page of the _Prophet_. You know I look out for you boys, though, I'm not nearly as protective as you are of me."

"We're not protective," Thompson denied.

"No?" She tore her eyes from Oliver and looked to the wizards in the booth. "Then why do you freak out when I'm not at work or I don't give you notice before taking the day off. Why am I sat in the exact middle of you lot? And why have you been glaring at any man that's looked my way? I swear, I thought you were going to hex that wizard that bumped into me on the dance floor."

"Well, we had to stop Wood from knocking out that guy that tried to feel you up," Malloy shrugged, looking as though he were watching for her reaction to the information.

Well, that certainly explained the intense conversation she'd witnessed on the dance floor, at the time she'd been with Kings and Pallie and she hadn't thought Oliver had seen that happen. She was wrong.

"And anyway, you're like a little sister to us."

"Little?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you are the youngest."

"Physically. Emotionally and mentally I'm older than all of you combined," she replied.

"Can't argue with that one," Kings snorted. "So, yeah, we're protective of you, so what?"

She rolled her eyes and they darted back to Oliver, barley holding in a sigh when he shrugged off the rest of the women, collected the tray of drinks and did his best to cross to the booth without spilling anything. The moment he set the tray down, it was empty as everyone retrieved their drinks and another cocktail was pressed into her hand, leaving her with one and a half.

"Here's to physical maturity but emotional and mental immaturity," Pallie said, raising his muggle beer high and glasses of muggle and wizarding alcohol soon joined the toast.

"A missed somethin' dinnae a?" Oliver said, looking about in confusion.

"Nothing important," Malloy waved him off.

"Well, I better be off," Hermione said aloud, making to stand.

Malloy pulled her back down into her seat and pushed her untouched cocktail back in front of her as she was met with protests.

"Yes, I have to be up early and it's getting late. I've already gone over my three drink promise and my head's getting a little fuzzy, the warning to stop before I suffer tomorrow. I've drank, I've danced and I've laughed, now I have to go."

"At least finish your drink, it's paid for and no one else will touch it," Malloy said.

"Yeah, and you haven't danced with _everyone_ ," Thompson argued. Hermione wasn't blind to the amused glances that were shared between everyone but her and Oliver. "You haven't danced with Wood yet."

Hermione sighed and her eyes darted to Oliver, seeing his cocked eyebrow and amused expression.

"You dance, Oliver?"

"Fer ye, a'll give it a bash," he shrugged, downing the last of his drink and standing from the table, holding his hand out expectantly.

"Fine, one more dance and then I'm going home. The next couple of rounds are on me, no arguments. Tony, try the cocktail and trust me on this, you'll like it."

She slid the cocktail across the table and over to him before taking Oliver's hand as he helped her step out from the booth and allowed her to lead the way. They'd both felt the eyes watching them, some from the crowd but mostly from the team. She took them right to the centre of the dance floor, losing the eyes of the team.

Dancing with Oliver to the muggle music that played had only been awkward because they both knew to keep some distance between them, to do nothing that hinted at a relationship between them or anything that could later be sold to the press by a member of the crowd. Them being out together wasn't all that suspicious, it was common knowledge she was the private Healer for Puddlemere and close with the team, and she'd danced with every member of the team, so if they remained careful, nothing could be said or taken out of context.

They'd chatted comfortably, mostly about the night and what excuse Oliver would use to leave after her without it being suspicious. They'd danced to a couple of songs before nature called and Hermione took that as her excuse to leave for home. She'd waved her goodbyes to the team, receiving waves and pouts in return, as well as shouts she hadn't been able to hear over the music, and retreated to the bathroom with Oliver's heated stare on her back. Hermione never used the customer toilets, rather the staff one out the back as it allowed her to dodge people asking for autographs, prevented her from being cornered in the bathroom and the staff toilet was much nicer.

After finishing her business, she made a quick pit-stop in her office to check if she had any mail or job applications, something both she and Lee had to approve, when she heard the door open.

"Unless you're a member of staff, you can't be back here and if you are a member of staff, you should knock before entering my private office."

Letting the opened mail fall from her grip and onto her desk, she turned to face the door, a gasp falling from her mouth at the sight of Oliver stood in the doorway. How he'd gotten past security and into the back of the club was beyond her and she didn't care, not with the way his entire body seemed to be wound tightly with need and his eyes stared at her with such intensity, she felt her skin heat and her insides twist and knot.

"Oliver," she breathed out.

The room was dimly lit with only a few candles, some of which blew out when Oliver shut the door and quickly approached her, his arms settling around her, lifting her and sitting her on the edge of her desk, all before speaking.

"They'll get suspicious," she muttered, unable to tear her eyes from him until they fluttered closed as his hands worked the hem of her dress up towards her hips, his calloused fingers tracing over her soft skin teasingly as they danced their way towards her knickers. Black and lacy to match the strapless bra.

"Right now, a don' care. A've been waiting all night tae get me hands on ye, a couldn't wait tae get yer home, a dinnae know ye were stopping in yer office an' there's jus' somethin' aboot the thought af havin' ye here tha' a cannae get it oot af me head. So, unless ye object...?"

"No objections, absolutely no objects," she breathed out as his mouth latched onto her neck.

"An' don' expect tae get any sleep tanight. When we're done here, a'll make me excuses an' meet ye at home, if am not gunna see yer fer a few days, am gunna take advantage af the time we do have tanight."

~000~000~000~

**Muggle London – Sunday 28th February 1999**

"This was a wonderful idea," Hermione's mothered sighed, lifting her champagne glass to her mouth and taking a hearty sip, damn near downing the entire thing.

Spas it seemed, had no problem serving champagne before eleven o'clock in the morning, and her mother was certainly taking advantage of the fact.

The weekend so far had been relaxing, calm and fun. Saturday morning she'd left bed feeling tired and worn out, Oliver certainly having kept his promise in keeping her awake most of the night. She's showered quickly and had only some toast and a cup of tea, knowing the plan was to stop at one of her mother's favourite cafes for breakfast before they hit the road.

Once Mrs. Wood had floo'd over, a carry on case held in hand, dressed in a comfortable skirt and jumper and with an excited smile on her face, Hermione had grabbed her own things, said her goodbyes to Merlin and placed a kiss to Oliver's cheek as he slept. He didn't move. The combination of alcohol and exhaustion from their activities had him out for the count, she only hoped he was able to get out of bed for training.

Her mother had been waiting for them and they'd barely stepped out of the floo before they were all loaded up in her mother's car. Mrs. Wood had been both nervous but excited, having never been inside one before but her parents had always had high standards and expensive tastes and her mother's current car, they'd bought after returning from Australia. It was big, expensive and comfortable, fit with all of the bells and whistles anyone could wish for. The drive to the cafe hadn't been a long one and after they'd stopped for breakfast they'd picked up a few snacks for the journey.

The drive itself was expected to take no more than a couple of hours but they'd not only hit early morning traffic, but there'd been a couple of accidents on the way, doubling their journey time, something that hadn't seemed to bother Mrs. Wood. They'd arrived at their destination, a lovely rural hotel and spa and checked into their rooms, taking some time to get settled in before attending lunch. After that, their spa trip had begun and they'd spent the day getting massages and mud baths, Mrs. Wood undergoing treatments specifically for those who were undergoing chemotherapy, they'd drank champagne and nibbled on the finger foods and after dinner, they'd lounged about the indoor pool and jacuzzi before heading to bed.

That morning Hermione had been woken by room service bringing her breakfast and she and her travel companions had gathered on the balcony of their conjoined rooms and ate breakfast together as they watched the morning sun reflect on the rippling water of the pond in the distance.

Hermione had enjoyed the weekend very much and she'd enjoyed spending time not only with her mother, something she didn't often have the chance to do, but with Oliver's mother, too.

"Yes, it was," Hermione replied, turning to look at her mother on the lounger to her right whilst Mrs. Wood was to the left. They'd recently undergone facials and had been left alone for a little peace before they were due to receive manicures and pedicure not long before lunch.

"This was somethin' a definitely needed," Mrs. Wood.

"Yes, I can't imagine how stressful a time this is for you," her mother said. "And your last treatment is Tuesday?" She asked, both she and Hermione's father being in the know about her illness.

"Aye, hopefully, it'll be me last an' the doctor will give mae some good news at the next meeting."

"I could come with you, if you'd like," her mother offered. "Richard wouldn't mind me taking a few hours away from the practice, perhaps it'll do you some good to have a girl friend with you."

"A'd appreciate tha', thank ye. Henry had intended tae take some time away from the office but anno he's got a lotta paperwork tae catch up on, but he doesn't want mae goin' alone, an' anno Oliver an' Hermione are busy at the stadium."

"You know we'd happily come with you," Hermione said.

"An' have ye risking the wrath af the big bosses, a wouldn't dream af interrupting yer work schedules. Anno hoo much af a handful those boys can be, a once hosted a dinner with them all in attendance, never again," she said and she and her mother laughed. "A don' know hoo ye manage them ev'ry day withoot wanting tae pull yer hair oot or hex them."

"Oh, believe me, I've threatened them once or twice. I just tell them I'm going to put them on a no-fly ban and they behave," she replied.

"Boys an' their Quidditch," she shook her head with a laugh.

"It's Oliver that's a pain in the arse. He keeps faking injuries so he can speak to me without anyone seeing or getting suspicious."

"Aye, a'm sure tha's all he wants, tae speak tae ye," Mrs. Wood commented, sharing a knowing laugh with her mother as they both watched her blush furiously.

"Whilst we're on the subject of that charming boyfriend of yours," her mother started and Hermione eyed her warily. "I've something important to ask."

"Alright," Hermione replied slowly, cautiously.

"How's your sex life?"

"Mum!" Hermione exclaimed, her face flaming red as she covered it with her hands, hearing the loud laughter of both women. "I can't believe you asked that!"

"Why not? We've always been able to talk about such things, and I just want to make sure you're being treated as you deserve."

"Mum! His mother's right here."

"A'd like an answer tae tha' question as well," Mrs. Wood said.

"Oh, God!" Hermione choked.

"He might be me son, me baby boy, but yer the closest thing tae a daughter a've had. A was never able tae have conversations like this with me parents, an' am hopin' ye'd feel comfortable enough have these discussions with mae. Jus' don' go intae tae much detail."

"So, Hermione, answer the question."

"Please!"

"No, answer it."

Hermione released a choked sigh and reluctantly lowered her hands to uncover her face when her other reached out to tug at them, them both laughing at the sheer redness of her skin.

"I know you're responsible and we've already had the talk when you were younger, but I never asked. Have you had sex?"

"Yes," she admitted. If it were possible, her face would've flamed redder.

"And was Ron your first? I know you were together for a little while. Or was it Viktor? I know you were only young, but I also know what teenagers get up to without supervision."

"No, it wasn't Ron or Viktor."

"A boyfriend we don't know about?"

"No," she shook her head.

"So, Oliver was your first?"

"Oliver..." Hermione hesitated for a moment, but it was a moment too long and they both noticed. "Oliver was my first."

Her mother narrowed her eyes and rose to a sitting position, putting her almost empty glass of champagne off to the side and turning to face her, planting her feet against the floor and readjusting her white fluffy robe.

"You're lying."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are. You've always been a terrible liar, you got that from your father."

"Why would I lie to you?" She asked, trying to keep her voice calm and fighting back the panic.

"You tell me. You say Oliver was your first but you paused, hesitated. You're lying, why?"

"Merlin," Mrs. Wood gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as Hermione and her mother both looked to her. Her eyes had widened and tears threatened to spill. "When we first met, ye said Oliver saved ye," she said quietly.

Hermione heard a second gasp and turned to look at her mother, seeing her wide and horrified expression, tears swimming and threatening to fall.

"Oh God, you said he saved you," she whispered. "That he found you and took you home. You... You had a stalker..." She stumbled over the words, everything slotting into place. "Did he..." She couldn't finish her question.

Nausea filled Hermione's stomach and bile rose in the back of her throat, her head started spinning and she looked down at her lap, pulling her knees up against her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs tightly. She buried her face against her knees and tears fell, soft cries sounding from her.

"My goodness, my baby, my poor baby," her mother choked.

Arms had soon encircled her and she pulled against her mother's body as she perched on the side of Hermione's lounger, and then a second pair of arms held her, one hand pressed against her back and rubbing circles and the other gripping her tightly clenched fists, squeezing softly.

She didn't know how long passed but with the comforting presence and in the arms of two mothers, Hermione found herself calming and her soft cries stopping and she found the courage to lift her face from her knees, seeing the saddened, horrified and angered expressions of the two women.

"What happened? Don't lie to me, tell me everything," her mother said softly, removing one arm from around her to wipe away her own tears before holding her firmly once more.

Hermione couldn't look at either of them and she turned her gaze forward, looking to the quiet, calm pond in the distance.

"I don't remember much," she started. "I remember leaving the club with Merlin and then I was surrounded. There were three of them. I tried to fight but couldn't, they were too strong, too fast. I remember being groped and touched but then everything goes black and I remember nothing except waking up, safe at Oliver's with Thomas and Merlin. From what we've been able to gather, two of them..." She hesitated and then shook her head, "And the other held me down, helped them." She felt both of them tighten their hold on her. "But I honestly don't remember any of the attack; not only did they use a Memory Charm on me, but I was passed out during the act. I know it happened but it's almost as if it didn't because I can't remember it. Two of them were found dead and the other's in prison."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Her mother asked softly.

"I didn't want anyone to know," Hermione answered quietly. "There was nothing you or I could've done about it. And Oliver, he's been so good to me. He let me stay with him, he took care of me, he carried me around when I couldn't walk due to a leg injury despite the fact I told him I was fine. And when I had to move again, he invited me into his home, he kept my secret, he kept me safe. He was my friend, my confidante, someone I could trust. For a while, he was the only person I could stand to touch me without flinching. He accompanied me when I went out in public and when I had panic attacks or flashbacks, he comforted me, took care of me. He was with me every step of the way and he never asked for anything in return. When we were told the news of it all being over, he insisted that I stay with him and not find another flat or place to live. During all of this, I'd realised that I was falling for him but I convinced myself he didn't feel the same way, and when I found out he did... I just... I don't know, as bad as it sounds, I'm almost grateful it happened. Without it, Oliver and I would've never been brought together, I would've never fallen in love with him. Please don't tell anyone, no one else knows but Oliver, Thomas and Kingsley. Please, don't tell dad."

"Hermione, I have to, I don't keep secrets from him," her mother replied.

"This isn't your secret, this is mine," Hermione turned her eyes to her. "What d'you think he'll do? He'll shout and yell, he'll get angry and break things, he'll demand that I move home and I leave the Wizarding World, leave everything behind. I'd be no safer here than I would there. There are evil people in both worlds, one with magic, one without. There's nothing he can do. It's all over, it's all been taken care of and I've put it behind me. I've got Oliver and I'm happy and I don't let what happened to me define me or my life. Don't tell him."

They held gazes for a moment before her mother slowly nodded. "Okay, I won't tell him."

Hermione released a sigh and turned to look at Mrs. Wood, seeing a soft, comforting smile on her face as she reached up and pushed Hermione's wild curls out of her face and behind her ear in a motherly gesture.

"Oliver, I love him. I truly do."

"Anno, Dear," she said softly.

Hermione's gaze turned forward. "As for your question, Oliver and I, yes, we do have sex, and as far as we're both concerned, he was my first, no one else. I don't have flashbacks or panic attacks, he's always gentle with me and he always takes care of me first. When we first slept together, I had to convince him that I was fine and I wanted it to happen. He was fine with just stopping and having a cuddle, it was both incredibly sweet and thoughtful, but downright annoying given the situation." They both chuckled softly. "He is everything to me and I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else," she ended with a soft sigh.

"Are you ladies ready for some pampering?" The pretty blonde spoke, stepping out onto the balcony.

"Aye, we sure are, definitely in need af it," Mrs. Wood smiled at the young woman.

"If you'd just follow me through to the next room, we have everything waiting for you."

She turned and exited and Hermione and her companions all stood and followed after her, but not before her mother finished the last of her champagne. Thankfully, Hermione had thought ahead and brought some Hangover and Sobriety Potions along with her just in case.

"So, you have a healthy sex life?" Her mother asked.

"Mum!"

"Answer the question, Dear. No one wants to be stuck in a relationship were they're unsatisfied."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, Mum."

"How many times a week, would you say?"

"God, Mum! Are you training to be a sex therapist?"

"Now there's an idea," she mused.

"Mum!"

She and Mrs. Wood shared a laughed.

"Answer ye ma's question," Mrs. Wood laughed.

"I don't know," she blushed. "I don't count."

"You don't count because you don't see the point in such things, or you don't count because you can't keep up?" Hermione's blush darkened. "Really?" Her mother's mouth pulled into a smirk. "Now things are getting interesting. And orgasms? I assume he's able to bring you to that point since you said he always takes care of you first."

"Yes, Mum," she muttered, mortified.

"Excellent. A healthy and satisfying sex life is nothing to be embarrassed about."

"She's right, Dear," Mrs. Wood agreed.

"You never did answer my question, how many times a week on average would you say you have sex? And do you always orgasm?"

"For Merlin's Sake," Hermione choked, speeding up in her steps until she was ahead of the laughing women.

She stepped into the room, accepted a glass of champagne from one of the beauticians and downed it in one. She received a surprised look from the older blonde as she placed the empty glass back on the tray and then took the first of the three chairs in the room.

Her companions entered after her, accepting the final two glasses of champagne and then they took their seats, her mother sitting in the centre with Mrs. Wood on the left and closest to the door. The blonde moved to take the chair opposite her whilst two brunettes who looked a little older than her, took the chairs opposite her companions, silently taking their right hands and making a start on their manicures.

"Hermione, this will all be over as soon as you answer my questions. How often do you and Oliver have sex, and do you always orgasm?"

Hermione couldn't have blushed redder if she tried. The blonde opposite her, her name tag reading 'Lucy', lifted her head, her green eyes widening slightly in surprise.

"Mum!"

"Answer the questions," Mrs. Wood smiled.

"But this is your son we're talking about."

"Anno, be vague."

The beautician looked between Hermione, her mother and Mrs. Wood before she released Hermione's hand, stood from her chair and moved away from the small table separating them. She disappeared into a small cupboard and when she returned, she had a glass and a bottle of newly opened champagne. She poured a generous amount into the glass before handing it to Hermione. Hermione downed the contents quickly, only to find her glass once more refilled.

Hermione believed she'd found a new best friend in the beautician as she left the bottle of champagne within reach and then retook her seat, retaking Hermione's right hand and continuing where she left off.

"I don't know how many times a week we have sex. Sometimes we do it several times a day, sometimes we don't do it at all, it just depends on how tired we are or how busy we've been at work. You're forgetting, we both work six days a week, and Oliver's training schedule's intense. And when I'm not at the stadium, patching up the boys, I'm either tending to my other private patients, working with Lee on expanding the club, I'm visiting you or I'm at the orphanage."

"And orgasms?"

"Give me a break," Hermione grumbled, taking another generous sip from her glass. If she kept going at the rate she was, she'd be drunk before she got home that night. She'd decided against a Sobriety Potion for herself, not wanting to remember any of this conversation. "I don't know, always more than one."

"Every time?"

"Yes, every time...Oliver's, let's just say, _talented_."

"Hmmm, I remember when I was younger, when your father and I were like that," she said fondly.

"Mum!"

"An' mae an' me Henry," Mrs. Wood sighed.

"Mrs. Wood!" Hermione said scandalised.

"Dear, hoo many times do a have tae tell ye? Call mae Beth. Yer gunna be me daughter-in-law, we may as well get comfortable with it fer now an' then maybe in the future, ye might even call me ma," she smiled.

"Daughter-in-law?" Her face would've reddened further if it were possible.

"Af course, Dear," she tipped her head and smiled, sharing a not so conspicuous glance with her mother. "Ye said ye couldn't see a life withoot Oliver, so someday ye'll marry him, making ye me daughter-in-law. A've always wanted a daughter. An' anno Oliver wants tae someday marry ye."

Hermione's heart stopped. "He... He does?" She whispered.

"Aye, he hasnae said it ootright," she lied, sharing a knowing look with Hermione's mother, "But anno me baby boy, an' anno he's never looked at a woman the way he looks at ye, anno he's never loved a woman the way he loves ye. So a wouldn't be surprised if he pops the question in the next couple af years."

"Assuming we'll still be together," Hermione replied, trying to stop her racing heart at the thought of Oliver getting down on one knee and proposing with a ring he'd spent hours agonising over. Merlin, did she want that! She wanted that with all of her heart!

When picturing her future, Oliver was it. Her best friend and protector. Her lover and confident. Her husband and the father of her children. They'd be covered in flour and flying brooms and playing the piano and running about playing fetch with Merlin, laughing loudly and making a mess.

"Ye will," she replied without a hint of doubt.

"Oh, I can't wait. I'm so happy. My little girl's found a man that treats her well, adores her, spoils her rotten and gives her multiple orgasms! I can't wait to rub this in your Aunt's faces. I'm getting the perfect son-in-law."

"Mum!"

"Relax, Dear, I'm sure you've got a couple of years to wait. Now, back on topic, sex positions? Have you figured out which ones are most comfortable and enjoyable for you?"

"Mum!"

Hermione looked to her beautician, Lucy, seeing her wide but amused eyes.

"Help me," Hermione mouthed silently.

The blonde simply shook her head and silently laughed before reaching for the champagne bottle and topping up Hermione's glass. They still had the pedicure, lunch, the hair salon and the makeover left before they even thought about leaving for home. Hermione was sure by that time, she'd be stumbling into the manor. There was no way in hell she wanted to remember that conversation.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

The moment Hermione stepped out of the floo, she was greeted by an excited overly-large dog and she laughed, dropping to her knees to hug the large bear of a dog as he licked at her face and neck.

She'd had several more glasses of champagne before lunch had even been served. She didn't think her mother could get any more intrusive and embarrassing, she'd been wrong. Very wrong. But she'd since had food and time to sober up a little and she was thankful the trip back had seen them without any disruptions or incidences. Oliver's mother had enjoyed her weekend away and that was all she and her mother had intended, plus, they'd promised to do it again in the future.

When she heard footsteps, she released Merlin and rose to full height, beaming the moment Oliver stepped into view. He blinked in surprise at her done-up appearance before a smile pulled at his mouth and she was quick to approach and hug him tightly.

"God, I missed you."

"A missed ye, tae. Hoo was yer weekend? Ye have fun?"

"For the most part," she said, not wishing to explain the details of the highly embarrassing conversations she'd been forced to have with their mothers. "And you? Was the fishing trip alright?"

"Dinnae go," Oliver shrugged and Hermione pulled back from him.

"Why not?"

"Yer da had tae cancel last minute, somethin' tae do with an emergency root somethin'." She rolled her eyes. "He's gonna reschedule it with me da. But a must say, ye look beautiful."

He catalogued her subtle but professionally applied makeup and her wild curls pulled back in a pretty and elegant updo, something he knew she must've cast charms over to keep in place. Her hair rarely stayed in a ponytail for more than ten minutes before curls were springing free, something that annoyed her but he found amusing.

"Well, seeing as I've been all dolled up by the beauticians at the spa, it seems a shame to let it go to waste. Do you fancy going out for dinner this evening?"

He smiled. "Where would ye like tae go?"

"Can we go tae Amour again? Or is it too short notice?"

His smile widened. "They always keep a table spare fer the owners, besides, it's good tae keep them on their toes. Turning up ev'ry once in a while withoot notice often sets them on edge an' they run aboot the place like headless hippogriffs, it's funny."

She laughed and shook her head. "So, what do you want to see me in tonight?"

His eyes trailed her face and then fell lower to her body, looking thoughtful.

"Black."

"And red underwear, got it," she said knowingly, seeing his eyes grow intense. "Are we thinking something a bit more on the conservative side of things or maybe a little bit more revealing but still elegant?"

He bit his lip in thought. Both had its merits. On one hand, he could see what her dress revealed, on the other, her dress fit to her frame and hinted at what was beneath, something he already knew by memory.

"Somewhere in the middle?"

"As you wish," her mouth twitched. "I won't be long. I'll get ready in my old room, keep it a surprise."

She reached up and pressed a kiss to his mouth before turning and leaving down the corridor. Oliver had never showered or dressed quicker in his life and when he'd made it back to the living room in his dress shoes and black tux, he'd barely poured himself a tumbler of fire whiskey when Hermione's heels echoed against the marble flooring.

He turned to watch her approach, his eyes greedily taking in the sight she made. She wore a dress similar to the one she'd worn on their night out with the team, only this one had a slightly lower neckline showing a bit more cleavage and the dress fell to the ground, only when she spun to show him all of her, the dress dipped low, _very_ low in the back, it stopping at the small of her back and there was a slit in the right side of the dress, stopping a few inches from her hip.

God was she stunning!

Seeing her wearing no jewellery but a pair of diamond-studded earrings, he reminded himself to at some point buy her a matching necklace and bracelet set. It'd be hell to get her to accept it, but he wouldn't give up.

"So?" She questioned.

"Speechless," he muttered, unable to tear his eyes from her.

Her grin was something sinful.

"Then we better get going. We can't have dessert until we've had the main and a little wine. And I know _exactly_ what I'm having for dessert, do you?"

Oliver honestly didn't know how he found the strength to leave the manor without ravishing her first, but he thought he deserved a bloody medal.

~000~000~000~

**Muggle London - Thursday 4th March 1999**

"I have both good news and depending on your outlook, potentially bad news."

Oliver felt Hermione's hand grip his tighter, whilst Hermione felt Mrs. Wood's hand grip hers a little tighter. As they sat before Dr. Clay's desk, she and Oliver's mother were sat in the centre with Oliver and his father taking the outer sides.

She and Oliver had both left the stadium early in order to be at the meeting, and it was something Coach Burton was happy to allow given the circumstances. As it was, they'd left only an hour before training was due to be over for the evening, so it wasn't as though he was missing much.

"Good news first, please," Hermione spoke, being the first one in the room to find her voice.

"Well, the mass surrounding the lungs has reduced."

"And the bad news?" She was almost afraid to ask.

"If you were to agree, I'd recommend scheduling you in for surgery."

The room fell silent, all of them taking in his exact words. Surgery. Surgery was possible and that meant they were one step closer to getting his mother back on track and possibly healed for good.

"Why is tha' bad news?" Mr. Wood frowned.

"That depends on the way you look at it. I've already gotten a second opinion and they agree that surgery is an option, however, like any operation, there are risks. Surgery may result in damage to the lungs, possible lung failure, burst blood vessels and spread of infection. In surgery, we'll remove as much of the mass as possible and it is likely and common that we may remove a part of the affected lung. Recovery periods can vary but with magical treatments, I'm sure you'll heal quite nicely. After surgery, we'll bring you in for more scans and go from there. Most require another chemotherapy session to destroy the remainder of the cancerous cells. Whether or not you agree to the surgery, is entirely your decision."

Mrs. Wood didn't take any time to think of her decision, even with his warnings.

"A wanna try the surgery," she said. "It's better tae take the risk an' try than not try at all. An' yer comfortable with the size af the mass reduction?"

"Yes, I'm hopeful," he smiled. "If that's your final decision, I'll just need you to sign a few forms and I'll have you booked in for surgery as soon as possible. I'll give you some leaflets with more information regarding the process, the potential risks and what to expect afterwards to take home with you."

Whilst he handed her the forms that needed signing, he collected the leaflets and handed them to Mr. Wood before stepping out of the room.

"A cannae believe it," Oliver muttered, looking to her in surprise.

"Your mum's a fighter, Oliver. She can beat this, I know she can," Hermione smiled, turning in her chair to pull him into a hug, pulling back from him when Dr. Clay re-entered and took his seat behind his desk.

"Seeing as we're going down the route of private care over the NHS, which is understandable given your _background_ , I've spoken with a friend of mine who owns his own practice and he's willing to allow me to use one of his ORs, and he's an expert in this field and will be joining me in surgery. You'll have the best care and treatment possible."

"Has a date already been set or should I call in a few days?" Hermione asked.

"There's an opening next week."

"Really, so soon?" She questioned in surprise.

"There was a cancellation, and if you would like it, it's yours."

"A'll take it," Mrs. Wood nodded, a steely look of determination entering her eyes.

"I'll let Dr. Brett know to schedule you in. The operation will be scheduled for four o'clock on Wednesday afternoon, but you will be expected to arrive three hours before so you can be prepped for surgery. As a precaution, you'll be nil by mouth."

"It means you can't eat or drink _anything_ twenty-four hours before the surgery," Hermione explained, seeing the confused expressions of the three Purebloods. "It's just in case you have a bad reaction in surgery and you vomit. Nothing to worry about."

Dr. Clay nodded to her in thanks before turning back to his patient. "I'll be sending over your files for Dr. Brett to review so he may familiarise himself with your case. We'll have to be cautious with the medication we administer as we're unaware of any allergies you may have to such muggle medicines. Dr. Brett is a muggle and is unaware of magic so you'll have to be cautious. He's one of the best surgeons in the country and you're in good hands, I assure you. You'll have the chance to meet him on the day of the surgery. You'll find a list of everything you need to bring with you included with the information pack I've made up for you."

"Thank you, Dr. Clay," Hermione said, sharing a hopeful glance with the others.

~000~000~000~

**Wood Estate**

"Keep goin', a can hold back until yer ready," he groaned, the arm holding him up shaking and his other hand gripped at her hip tightly.

"Don't you dare," she panted, "I won fair and square. I chose to give, not to take."

"Yer gunna be the death af mae," he muttered.

His hand slipped a little on the plastic mat beneath him and his upper body ached at the act of trying to keep himself upright whilst in a leaning position. He'd be aching in the morning.

After leaving Dr. Clay's office, he, Hermione and his parents had gone for dinner at one of Hermione's favourite muggle restaurants that she used to visit with her parents when he was younger. Afterwards, they'd gone their separate ways and returned home. They'd both greeted Merlin when he bounded over to them excitedly and once he'd calmed and turned his attention to destroying one of his newly bought toys, they'd both changed their clothes into something a little more comfortable and then convened in the living room, Hermione with her arms laden with a pile of new muggle games he'd yet to see or play.

They'd played a few card games before swapping to playing Twister. The first time had been an introduction, giving Oliver a chance to understand the game and get a feel for it. After that, Hermione had instigated a rule, a prize for the winner, something to make it more interesting.

And that was how he found himself with Hermione straddling him, her hands running through and tugging at his hair as she kissed the life out of him, her hips rocking against his. There wasn't much separating them. Hermione had already peeled Oliver out of his t-shirt which lay forgotten on the ground somewhere, and this left him in only his underwear and grey tracksuit bottoms, whilst Hermione was only clad in a white spaghetti strap top and a pair of pink cotton shorts that barely covered her arse. Not that he was complaining.

Hermione had won the game and as the winner, she had the choice of giving him an orgasm, or, of him giving her one. She'd chosen the former and was doing everything in her power to kill him, he was sure of it.

Her hand smoothed down his stomach and came to rest at his waistband and her mouth tore from his, latching onto his neck. He was so tightly wound that by the time her hand slipped beneath his clothing, she barely had to touch him to bring him over the edge.

"Next time, we should do this withoot clothing," he suggested, working to get his breathing back under control and with the way Hermione's fingers were dancing the length of his neck, he knew she'd left a love bite.

She snorted. "I'm smaller and more agile than you, I'm all but certain to win every time, so you'll be the one without clothing whilst I'm fully clothed..." She paused for a moment, thoughtful. "You know what, next time, strip-twister it is," she nodded and he snorted at her.

"Well, it's yer turn," he grinned, his hand moving to the waistband of her shorts but she stopped his movement with her own. "Ye know a don' like leaving ye unsatisfied."

"Trust me, Oliver, I'm _very_ satisfied right now," she smiled smugly. "But if you want to return the favour, you have to win the next game."

"A'd rather jus' have ye here an' now," he replied, lowering her onto her back and then manoeuvring on top of her, her legs folding around him as he settled in the cradle of her thighs.

"I'm almost tempted, but I'm quite enjoying myself."

"Yer jus' wanna win the game," he snorted. "Yer the most competitive person a've ev'r met."

"Coming from you, that's rich."

"We're both as bad as each other," he admitted. "So, _are_ ye gunna let mae ravish the hell oot af ye?"

She rolled them until she was straddling him once more and he pushed himself into a sitting position.

"Only if you win the next game. Hide and seek. You have ten minutes to find me or I win."

"It takes tha' bloody long tae walk from one end af the manor tae the other," he argued.

She snorted. "Don't be so dramatic. Fine, _twenty_ minutes and I'll stay inside the manor. If you want me, you have to find me because we both know which option I'll choose if I win again." She pressed a lingering, heated kiss to his mouth that had him groaning when she pulled back from him. "Count to thirty and come and find me, and don't you dare cheat."

She climbed from his lap and batted his hands away when he tried to pull her back down to him. He fell onto his back, breathing a slow sigh before rubbing a hand over his face and then covering his eyes, loudly counting to thirty.

Not wanting to double back on himself, he started with that floor of the manor first, quickly searching their bedroom before moving onto the guest rooms and the bathrooms. He did a quick scan of the living room, knowing she wouldn't be there and then headed into the kitchen. He couldn't have had much time left and headed to the floor below, keeping an eye out for Merlin whilst also searching for Hermione. Chances were, Merlin would give away Hermione's hiding position. He knew she wouldn't go anywhere near the swimming pool after what happened the last time but he searched it anyway before trying the library. She wasn't in there either. He searched the piano room, the parlour, the vacated rooms and the formal living room, kitchen and dining room. That was everywhere in the manor and she was nowhere to be seen.

He scowled in annoyance, knowing that his time was running out and he hadn't seen or heard Merlin either. He heard a noise, the sound of something being knocked over and it clattered to the ground. His mouth tugged into a smirk. It had to be either Hermione or Merlin, either way, he could find her.

He all but ran towards the source of the noise, almost falling over when he halted to a sudden stop before the grand staircase, and opposite, stood by the open front door, were each and every one of his teammates.

Shit!

"Wood?" Pallie questioned, eyeing him curiously and his expression was matched by the others.

Oliver understood why. Whilst it wouldn't be strange he was walking around shirtless, the fact he was sporting a newly formed love bite on show and his hair had clearly been tousled, was. They knew Oliver valued his privacy and never brought a girl home with him, so even if he had recently had a one night stand they didn't know about, that didn't account for the current messy hair.

"What... What are ye doin' here?" He asked, straightening his stance and his eyes darted down both corridors, wondering where the hell Hermione was.

"I tried floo calling but you didn't answer. We know your mother had her meeting with the muggle doctor and we wanted to hear how it went, and we wanted to see if you wanted to come out for a few drinks," Thompson explained. "We knocked but no one answered."

He'd given Bobby the evening off, sent him away to do whatever it was house-elves did when they were off duty.

Oliver opened his mouth, about to give an excuse and get them to leave as quickly as possible, only the sound of barking echoed through the manor and he silently cursed.

"Hang on," Malloy frowned, "Is it me or does that sound like..." He didn't finish as Merlin soon came bounding down the corridor and out from the parlour, a toy held in his teeth before he skidded to a stop on the marble flooring.

He dropped the toy in favour of barking loudly and jumping up at Kings in greeting.

"Why's Merlin here?" Malloy asked confused. "You dog sitting or something?"

"But why would Hermione ask him over one of us?" Pallie pointed out.

Once again, Oliver's mouth opened to respond, only he was interrupted again by the sound of laughter.

"Your time is well and truly up!" Hermione's voice carried. Oliver's eyes closed briefly before opening once more, seeing the surprised expressions of his teammates. "You've had way more than twenty minutes. You know what that means. I win!"

Hermione appeared, skipping joyfully down the corridor. Damn it! That's why he hadn't been able to find her; she'd cheated and used a Disillusionment Charm.

"Two in a row, I'm on a roll. Well, I accept my prize as the winner and choose to give, not take."

It wasn't until she stepped out of the cover of the corridor and into the open of the foyer that she froze, her eyes darting between each member of the team.

Oliver had thought they'd been surprised to hear her, only it was nothing compared to their surprise at seeing her. He genuinely thought their eyes were going to fall out of their head, their jaws hit the floor and Pallie even swayed on his feet as though he were going to faint.

There was no explaining this away as their eyes catalogued Hermione's appearance. Her messier than usual hair, still slightly swollen mouth, the love bite he'd left on her collar bone a few nights before, the nightwear of her skimpy top and shorts that barely covered her arse and showed her long legs, and her bare feet and prettily painted toenails which matched her fingernails.

Their gazes swung between her and him, once, twice, three times.

"I KNEW IT!"


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Page count: 28

**Wood Estate - Thursday 4th March 1999**

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze darting between him and his gathered teammates, half of them looking to be too surprised to react and the other half deliberately trailed their eyes over her half-dressed form appreciatively.

Oliver's eyes narrowed into a glare and possessiveness shot through and before he knew it, Oliver's discarded t-shirt was gripped in his hand. Hermione's mouth parted, her expression morphing from surprise at being caught into an impressed stare at the action.

"Did you just do that wandlessly _and_ non-verbally?" She breathed out, her heated eyes locking with his.

The slight huskiness in her tone was one he knew well; his display of non-verbal and wandless magic had turned her on, something that he hadn't intended and if he were honest, he hadn't even realised he'd done it. He just wanted something to give her so she could cover herself up. And if they were anywhere else and not currently in the situation they were in, he wouldn't have hesitated to sweep her off her feet and carry her to their bedroom. As it was, things were very tense and awkward in the foyer.

He didn't reply with words, merely held his t-shirt out towards her, his gaze darting to his slowly recovering teammates and Hermione silently crossed over to him, taking his t-shirt and slipping it on, it falling to her mid-thigh and covering her from their eyes a little better. Once she'd pulled her hair from beneath the collar and it hung down her back, Oliver slung his arm over her shoulders and tugged her into his side.

"Boys, what are you doing here?" Hermione cleared her throat, a blush settling on her cheeks as they silently stared between them, slowly blinking before matching smirks curved at their lips.

"We could ask you the same thing, Hermione," Pallie's eyebrow arched.

"So, how long's this been going on?" Thompson asked, folding his arms over his chest amusedly, watching as Merlin picked up his toy and trotted over to them, taking a seat by Oliver's feet.

"Err... Well..." She nibbled at her lip anxiously, her gaze darting up to Oliver as he looked down at her, a silent conversation passing between them. "There's no getting out of this is there?" She asked him quietly.

"Naw, there isnae," he confirmed. "It's time."

Hermione sighed, reaching up to push a fallen curl out of her face and over her shoulder before she nodded and then she silently pulled away from Oliver and headed for the grand staircase, Oliver and Merlin following her and the rest of the team catching on that they were supposed to follow, too.

When they entered the living room, Oliver took a seat on one of the couches with Merlin climbing up beside him, partially draped over his lap as he chewed on his toy, the rest of the team all took a seat on the couch opposite, it being large enough to fit them all with room to spare and Hermione paused at the bar. She poured a measure of fire whiskey into a tumbler for Oliver and poured herself a glass of elf wine, Oliver having stocked the bar with her favourite brand. With the fire whiskey and glass of wine in hand, she crossed over to them, Oliver taking the tumbler from her with a smile before he reached out with his other hand and tugged her to sit beside him, Hermione pulling her feet up onto the couch and tucking herself into his side.

The six athletes opposite watched them with silent curiosity, their eyes darting between them, the muggle board games piled on the table and the Twister mat and board that was still on the floor off to the right. Oliver observed them as he took a healthy swig from his tumbler and Hermione sipped at her wine, absentmindedly running her hand through the fur on Merlin's head after he'd climbed over Oliver's lap until his head was able to lay on Hermione's folded legs whilst his body was sprawled across him.

Malloy cleared his throat. "So, I think you two have some explaining to do."

"Do we?" Oliver arched a challenging eyebrow.

"Yes," the team chorused as one and it was, admittedly, a little frightening.

"How long have you been together?"

"Technically or officially?" Oliver checked.

"Officially," clarified Bishop.

"A while," Oliver shrugged.

"Technically?" He added.

"A while," Oliver repeated vaguely, his mouth tugging into a smile at their far from pleased glances.

"That's not an answer," Pallie frowned.

"It's the only answer yer gettin'."

"Why does it matter how long we've been together?" Hermione asked them, sipping from her wine. "All that matters is that we are."

"We've had suspicions that he's had a secret girlfriend for months," Kings injected. "And when you started working at the stadium, his behaviour changed. He seemed to get injured more than usual. He was always defensive when you were mentioned. Taking days off! His behaviour at the club... We theorised that _you_ were his secret girlfriend but I don't think any of us actually believed it."

Hermione sighed and lifted her hand from Merlin's head to smack at Oliver's chest. "I told you they'd noticed you were faking injuries. You weren't as subtle as you thought you were."

"You _faked_ injuries," Pallie's rose slightly in disbelief.

Oliver shrugged his shoulders. "It was the only way tae see her withoot a'body gettin' suspicious."

"Well, the jig's up now so you'll have to stop doing that," Hermione rolled his eyes. Oliver didn't look to be in agreement with her.

"How serious are you?" Thompson asked, tipping his head slightly.

"Why?" Hermione and Oliver chorused.

Thompson shrugged. "Just so we know where we stand with you."

"Excuse me?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Shove aff," Oliver glared at them, something passing between the two men that Hermione didn't understand. "Ye wanna know hoo serious we are? She lives with mae."

Some of them spluttered and some of them choked.

"Bloody hell," Malloy wheezed, patting himself on the chest as his eyes watered. "Give a guy some warning before you spring something like that on him."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Yes, Oliver was a highly private person, just as she was, but there was no need for that reaction to finding out they lived together.

"For how long?" Asked Pallie.

"A while," Oliver replied, receiving annoyed glances in response. "Not tha' it's any af yer business."

"Why didn't you tell us?" His brow furrowed, sounding a little upset that they'd kept something so big from them.

"You are aware of who you're talking to, yes?" Hermione asked, sipping from her wine. "Quidditch Star, War Heroine," her finger swivelled between her and Oliver. "How do you think the press would react to such news?" She tipped her head and they all winced.

"Yeah, that wouldn't be pretty," Malloy agreed. "Especially when the fangirls catch wind of what's going on."

"Exactly, and it wasn't just you we kept it from. No one but our parents knows and even then we kept it a secret from them for a little while."

"You've met the parents _and_ live together?" He questioned in surprise.

"Aye, an' her ma love mae, her da, not so much," Oliver answered, Hermione snorting at him.

"The fewer people that knew about us, the less likely it was that it'd leak to the press, accidentally or not. And we wanted to spend time together before the news broke, we didn't want to have to share the other with the world or have our relationship scrutinised by the public. We wanted to build a relationship that would be strong enough to withstand the backlash that will inevitably hit once we go public. We wanted to go to work and do our jobs and then be able to come home to each other where there were no prying eyes."

"And do you? Plan to go public?" Wilks pressed.

"Yes. Oliver's convinced me that it's time we stopped hiding but before we do, I need to tell my friends as I don't wish for them to find out through the press. And we're going to wait until after the fundraiser, we don't want to take away from all that we're working for. As for how we're doing it, we're just going to start venturing out in public more often, eventually, rumours will spread and articles will start cropping up and at that point, we'll have the PR Team at the stadium release an official statement. We were going to tell you about us after the fundraiser but..." She trailed off with a shrug, pointedly looking at the six men sat before her.

"I still can't believe it," Malloy shook his head in disbelief. "I mean, _you_ and _her_."

"What the hell's tha' supposed tae mean?" Oliver asked gruffly.

He shrugged. "Look at you and then look at her. She's way out of your league, how'd you do it? Some sort of potion? Spell?"

Oliver glared at him whilst the others sniggered and Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's not out of my league," she argued. "As for how, it was his cooking. You know that chicken pie I brought you?"

"Yeah," his brow furrowed. "The one you said your friend had..." His words stopped, his eyes widening when Hermione nodded and Oliver smiled smugly. "Shit!" Malloy muttered in surprise. "You can cook! Like, _really_ cook! And hell, that was months ago! Just _how_ long have you been together and kept it quiet?"

"None of your business, and Oliver would be considered a Michelin star chef if he were a muggle," Hermione said proudly. "It's a good thing he can cook otherwise we'd starve."

"Please, I'd happily live on your cookies for the rest of my life," said Kings.

"Although I appreciate the compliment, you can't live on cookies, they have no nutritional value."

"Sorry, Mum," he quipped, barely dodging the cushion she threw at him.

"I'm your Healer, too. Remember that," she warned.

"Where'd you meet?" Thompson asked suddenly. "I mean, you don't exactly run in the same social circles and you said so yourself, you didn't interact much in school."

"The Crimson Lion," Oliver answered, downing the remainder of his fire whiskey and then setting the tumbler on the ground, not being able to reach the table with Merlin sprawled across him.

"Yes, a drunken witch wouldn't leave him be and I stepped in and scared her away," Hermione added.

"There's more to it than that," Thompson said knowingly, his eyes darting to the board games and then to her. "We saw a letter a few months back, it was signed by the Queen of Board Games and Merlin, I know that's you. Something happened, I know it did."

"Tha's none af yer business, drop it," Oliver snapped, his arm around Hermione's shoulders tugging her closer to him when he felt her stiffen. "Leave it," he warned, seeing he was going to press further on the matter.

Pallie took one look at Oliver's angry expression and Hermione's suddenly anxious body language and he silently reached out, lightly punching Thompson in the arm, telling him to drop the subject. Whatever it was, it was highly personal and neither of them wanted them to know and they had to respect that.

"It's gettin' late, ye should probably head home," Oliver spoke but it wasn't a suggestion and they knew it.

"Yeah," Pallie agreed, being the first to stand from the couch and the others soon followed. "And your mother? How'd the meeting go?"

Oliver's expression softened and a smile pulled at his mouth. "Good, she's been scheduled fer surgery on Wednesday, but they're hopeful this could be it."

"That's good to hear," he nodded. "I guess we'll see you both tomorrow and at the same time. Now that we know, there's no point in arriving and leaving at separate times."

Oliver shrugged his shoulders, his gaze darting to Hermione worriedly as she stared at a spot on the wall.

"And this goes without saying, you know we won't talk to anyone about you, before or after the news break," Malloy promised.

Oliver simply nodded his head and as they took their leave, they all glanced over their shoulders, seeing Oliver gently nudging Merlin off him and Hermione before he tugged her into his lap, folding his arms around her and she snuggled against him, the pair sharing a hushed conversation before Oliver pressed a tender kiss to Hermione's forehead and a smile pulled at her mouth.

It was a side of him they'd never seen before.

"Whatever happened to her, it's bad," Thompson grumbled as they descended the grand staircase and passed through the foyer.

"Yeah, but that's her business," Malloy shrugged.

"How can you say that!? After everything she's done for us! For _you_!" He snapped.

Malloy sighed and ran a hand through his shaggy hair, pushing out it of his eyes. "I know I owe her everything, I'm not stupid. And I understand you care for her, we all do, but we can't get involved in her personal life. Whatever it is, she'll tell us if she wants us to know. She doesn't need our help, she's got Wood and as we all just witnessed, she's got all the support she needs."

"I've never seen that side of him before," Wilks commented, stuffing his hands in his pockets as they stepped out into the cold breeze and headed for the apparition point.

"I _still_ can't believe it," said Kings, "It's gonna take a few days for it to properly sink in. I mean, I suspected but I didn't at the same time. You know?"

They snorted in agreement.

"I don't envy their relationship, I understand why they've kept it quiet. When the press finds out, the fangirls will be brutal," Pallie shivered just at the thought of what Hermione would be forced to face.

"That's something I can't imagine Wood being happy about but Hermione can take care of herself. I'd never want to have her wand aimed in my direction unless she was healing me."

"She's terrifying," Bishop agreed. "Is anyone else slightly freaked out 'bout what we just witnessed or it just me?"

"It's not just you," Thompson confirmed. "Them being together, it's weird but not at the same time. Now that I think about it, from what we know about them, they're well matched."

"Better than most," Malloy agreed, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "I wonder... Do you think they're each other's most compatible? I remember my mum telling about it when I was a kid."

Eyes widened slightly as they darted between each other.

"Bloody hell," muttered Kings. "That would certainly explain a lot," he nodded.

"Lucky bastard," grumbled Wilks. "How'd he land Hermione Bleeding Granger as his most compatible?"

"It can't be helped," Malloy shrugged. "Magic's magic. As cheesy as it sounds, I'm just happy they found each other."

"She deserves the best," Pallie agreed. "And Wood will give her that."

~000~000~000~

**Puddlemere United Stadium- Friday 5th March 1999**

"Shhh... Be quiet!" Pallie hissed. "They're coming... Stop looking, they'll see us!"

"Isn't this a bit childish?" Malloy arched an amused eyebrow, casually leaning back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest, watching as his teammates hid around the corner as footsteps and quiet voices grew louder as they grew closer.

"No, _Benny_ , it's not," Pallie glared at him.

"It seems childish," he shrugged, amused when Pallie's glare hardened before he flattened himself against the wall, just before their targets rounded the corner.

"BOO!" His teammates chorused loudly, jumping out in front of Hermione and Oliver and much to Malloy's amusement, neither of them looked the slightest bit bothered or startled by it. Rather, they both blinked slowly, looked to each other, sighed and then turned their eyes back to them.

"Good morning, boys," Hermione greeted.

His teammates all deflated, pouting, sulking and grumbling under their breath that their plan had failed and massively so.

"Is there any particular reason you thought that was necessary?" She questioned, arching an eyebrow and Malloy snorted.

"Just thought it'd be fun to scare you," Thompson shrugged solemnly.

"Well, in hindsight, that was a terrible idea. If I truly _had_ been startled, one of you would now be in my examination room and that is not how I wish to start my morning, yourselves?" They all grumbled in response. "Thought not," she nodded. "Now, is there something you need?" She questioned.

And on cue, a snort fell from Malloy when the rest of his teammates suddenly stood taller and began chanting, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Hermione and Oliver looked to each other and then back to them.

"No," she said flatly.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

"Absolutely not," she folded her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes.

"Why not?" Pallie whined, dejected.

"Why? First of all, we are not zoo animals that exist for your entertainment, we are human beings, and secondly, whilst you may now know about our relationship, no one else does. We don't want to risk anyone seeing us and blabbing to the press before we're ready."

"What're you all doing here, you should be on the pitch," said Coach Burton as he approached with a clipboard in hand, having just left his office. "Oh," he said lightly, his eyes darting between Hermione and Oliver, seeing they were stood closer than they usually did and Oliver's arm had wound its way around Hermione's waist not too long ago. "I see you're finally coming clean."

Hermione and Oliver's eyes widened and they darted to the team suspiciously.

"You told him!" Hermione's voice rose.

"No, we haven't told anyone," Kings defended. "We haven't had time, we only found out last night."

"Wait, you didn't know," Coach Burton arched an eyebrow. "It was obvious there was something going on."

"Hoo long have ye known?" Oliver asked him warily.

Coach Burton shrugged. "Since the day Healer Dodd was fired." That was the day they'd first met Hermione and splutters and noises of surprise surrounded him and he laughed, shaking his head. "You weren't as subtle as you believed yourself to be, Wood. I've always known."

Oliver's brow furrowed. "Why dinnae ye say anythin'?"

"It's none of my business," he replied simply. "And you obviously didn't want anyone to know, and your relationship's nothing but professional when at the stadium, which is why I don't have a problem with you two being together despite being colleagues, even if you do fake injuries from time to time."

Oliver's eyes widened and the team burst into laughter.

"I told you," Hermione huffed, jabbing Oliver in the ribs as she unfolded her arms. "Don't worry, Coach, he won't be doing that anymore, I promise."

Coach Burton tipped his head. "I want you on the pitch in five minutes or I'm benching you for the next match," he warned before taking his leave down the corridor.

"Well, you heard the man, off you go," Hermione said.

"Cookies?" Kings asked hopefully.

"No," she shook her head.

"Brownies?" Malloy perked up, pushing away from the wall.

"No,"

"Shortbread?" Guessed Pallie.

"No," she replied, digging into her robe pocket and removing a Tupperware box before resizing it. "Today's blueberry muffins and they're still warm."

"Oh, you angel!" Cried Thompson as he darted forward and snatched the tub before anyone else could, holding it protectively against his chest.

"But you promised cookies!" Whined Kings childishly.

"Yes, when it's your turn, you've already had cookies this week and it was Thomspon's turn today. He's been begging me to bake blueberry muffins for weeks. Now, stop your whining and off you go."

"Not before you and Wood kiss," Pallie stood his ground.

Hermione rolled her eyes before she reached up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Oliver's cheek.

"There, now go."

"That's cheating!" Cried Wilks.

"You should've been more specific," she smiled before she reached up and whispered in Oliver's ear, "Good luck, you're going to need it," and then she turned and left for her office.

~000~000~000~

 _Why was the day passing so slowly?_ Oliver thought in annoyance.

He'd been dealing with his pain-in-the-arse teammates all morning and though it felt like hours had passed, they hadn't even reached lunchtime yet.

"So, Wood, are ya gonna spill?" Asked Kings as he sidled up beside him on his broom.

"Naw," he replied flatly, keeping watch for any rogue bludgers.

"Why not?" He frowned. "Your girlfriend's _Hermione Granger_ , you've gotta tell us something."

"Do a?" He arched an eyebrow in challenge.

"Yes," argued Bishop as he halted to a stop before him, soon being followed by the rest of the team.

"Don't be selfish," Pallie said. "Tell us, what's she like?"

"What!" Oliver snapped angrily and they all flinched back in surprise. "If ye think a'll ever reveal anythin' aboot her tha's private, yer fucking nuttier than Fox," he replied, the others blinking in surprise before sniggering.

"That's not possible," argued Malloy, "He's taken far too many bludgers to the head for that to be possible," he shrugged and the others nodded in agreement, knowing the reserve Keeper could barely remember his wife's name due to the number of knocks he'd taken in training.

"And I wasn't prying into anything sexual, I just meant in general. You know, as a girlfriend? What's she like to live with? Which I still find hard to believe, especially since we know how private you are and that no woman other than your mother has been to your place."

"If a tell ye, will ye back aff?"

"No," said Wilks.

"Yes," Pallie replied, slapping Wilks over the back of the head.

Oliver sighed in defeat and rubbed his calloused fingers over his face.

"A don' know what yer expecting, naw matter what ye think 'boot her or what yer've heard, she's still a witch, jus' like any other."

"I doubt that," King interrupted with a snort and Oliver shot him an annoyed glance.

"A meant, she's _human_. The press has built up this massive pedestal fer her an' anno hoo much she hates it. She's a very private person, more so than a am. She avoids the media as much as possible an' befere she moved in with mae, only a handful af people knew where she previously lived, naw matter hoo close they were tae her. The press depict her as being powerful an' smart an' kind, an' whilst it's true, she's so much more than a War Heroine an' a coveted Healer. She visits an orphanage in Diagon Alley once a week an' she spends hours reading an' playin' with the kids. She cannae cook but she bakes more than a can eat, which is why she always brings food here an' sends some tae her friends an' tae the orphanage. She spends almost as much time in the library as she does baking an' a have to drag her away from her books when it gets tae late or at mealtimes. She doesn't stop eating; she's always got a biscuit or sugar quill in her hand when wandering the manor or reading. She talks tae herself when working on research fer one af her cases fer St. Mungo's. She hums an' sings songs a've never heard af when she's baking an' she wears these daft aprons. She's always cold an' more often than not she's wearing a Granny-cardigan tha's far tae big fer her."

"Living with her is...Easy, simple," he shrugged, his gaze seeming to have locked on a random spot in the distance. "The manor always smells like baking an' between Hermione an' Merlin, it's never quiet," his mouth twitched into a smile.

If the manor wasn't filled with laughter, barking and exclaims that he was cheating at whatever game they were playing, there was always the soft music playing from the piano room, sometimes Hermione playing his favourite piece, _Love Dream_ , sometimes playing pieces for him she remembered from her childhood tutoring and other times, working on her compositions, and he knew she still hadn't finished the one she'd been working on for weeks now.

"That explains why Merlin likes you more than us despite you never seeming to interact with him," mused Wilks.

"There's naw lies or secrets between us, there's naw distrust or worry tha' the other will blab tae the press 'boot anythin' the other may so or do. Ev'ry mornin' a wake up, there's breakfast on the table an' she's made mae lunch an' after training, we go home an' don' have tae hide. An' when we do go oot, we go tae places we won't be recognised."

"Like?" Prompted Pallie nosily.

"We've been tae Paris a few times, we went tae Milan a couple as weeks ago, an' Venice an' Rome fer Valentine's Day," he shrugged.

"Shite!" Wilks muttered. "Are you going for the title of Britain's best boyfriend? You're making the rest of us look bad."

Oliver rolled his eyes. "None af ye have girlfriends," he pointed out.

"But if we _did_ you'd be making us look bad," he argued.

"That can't be cheap," commented Thompson, eyeing him strangely. "Even on our wage, going to places like that can cost a pretty sickle."

"A can afford it," Oliver shrugged. "Bein' on the team isnae me only income," Oliver said vaguely. "Anno Hermione wants tae travel an' a have the means tae make tha' happen, but it's not like she lets mae pay fer it all, she puts up one hell af a fight until we come tae a comprise. An' we tend tae stick tae the Muggle Word; not only is it cheaper an' we aren't recognised and we don't run the risk of being recognised, but Hermione likes the tourist sites. But none af tha's relevant, she deserves the best an' am doin' ev'rything a can tae make tha' happen."

They watched him closely, undecipherable expressions on their faces before they all seemed to glance at one another and nod knowingly.

"You don't seem as stressed," observed Malloy, his head tipped to the side slightly. "These last few months, you seem a lot more relaxed."

"That's Hermione's doin'," he shrugged.

"I bet it is," said Kings with a smirk, his eyebrows wriggling suggestively. Oliver glared at him furiously. "I mean, I know it's hard to find someone that doesn't want us for our fame and money and despite us not being ready to settle down yet, the one plus to having a girlfriend is regular sex without the risk of her trying to trap you by purposely falling pregnant, or one night stands that might pass _something_ along. Regular stress relief."

"A swear, yer askin' tae be knocked aff yer broom," Oliver warned, sniggers sounding from his words. "Mine an' Hermione's sex life, naw matter hoo frequent or adventurous, is none af yer business."

"Adventurous, you say?" He perked up. "I knew there was a secret sex kitten under that innocent smile of hers."

Malloy reached out to not only steady Oliver but to stop him from wrapping his hands around King's throat when he lunged for him, apparently forgetting that he was two hundred above ground on his broom and that one wrong move could mean his death.

"Does she keep you on your toes? Does she wear you out? That's why you're not stressed anymore, isn't it? You're too tired to be stressed."

Pallie reached out to prevent Oliver from drawing his wand, partially amused by his reaction and partially annoyed with Kings for winding him up so much that they might end up two players down, one from murder, the other from falling from his broom after committing murder. With a look to Thompson, he nodded and silently reached up, smacking Kings over the back of the head.

"Stop it," he warned. "At first it was funny, but you're taking it too far. Have some respect, if not for Wood then for Hermione."

"Sorry," Kings muttered, looking chastised. "I'll stop."

"You're not gonna hurt her, are you?" Thompson suddenly asked, his expression serious as he ignored the wide-eyed looks of his teammates, them all being surprised that he'd actually just asked him that question.

"Excuse mae?" Oliver's voice slightly in surprise.

"You heard me. We care for that little witch and I don't care how long you've been together or how serious your relationship is, if you hurt her..." He trailed off, his warning clear. "I know you..."

"Naw, ye don'," Oliver interrupted, his tone cold, low and dangerous, something none of them had ever heard him use before. "Ye only know an' see what a _allow_ ye tae. The person a am when am here is not the person a am when am in private or at home. That is the person a am with Hermione. Yeah, a might've faked an injury here an' there so a could see her withoot suspicion, but there's a reason a've kept me distance when she's here. It wisnae tae throw ye aff 'boot our relationship or prevent ye from finding oot, it was fer _her_. Anno tha' when am stressed a can be an arsehole an' a don' ev'r want her tae see tha' side af mae. A don' ev'r want her tae walk in on mae shouting at ye or the team, or fer her tae catch me temper the way some af the staff do after a shitty day. Who a am with ye an who a am with Hermione are twa completely different people. A would _never_ harm Hermione, physically, mentally or emotionally. A would never disrespect her in such a way. Not only does she deserve better, a love her."

Splutters and coughs sounded from around him and although Oliver was a little surprised he'd just divulged the very strength of his feelings to his teammates given how private a person he was, he wasn't ashamed of Hermione or his feelings for her.

"You love her?" Thompson asked slowly, his eyes wide.

Oliver took a deep breath but it did little to calm him and his hands closed around his broom handle tightly.

"Did ye think a'd ask her tae move in with mae if a dinnae love her?"

"So, it' serious between you?" He pushed.

Oliver grumbled and ran a hand through his hair in frustration, deciding whether or not if he should admit what he was considering voicing.

"Look, don' breathe a word af this tae anyone, least as all Hermione," he warned, and although he'd previously had their attention, they all sat taller and fixed their eyes on him, their expressions telling him to hurry up and spit it out. "She doesn't know..."

"Know what?" Malloy prompted.

Oliver took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth. "She's my most compatible."

They all rolled their eyes and released huffs.

"Oh, is that all," Malloy said with a disappointed frown.

Oliver's brow furrowed. They knew what it was? How? Whilst the majority of the team were Purebloods and the remainder Half-bloods born to the Wizarding World, he hadn't known about such magics until his parents had told him. He'd been expecting to have to explain it to them.

"Ye know what a mean?"

"Yeah, my mother told me about compatible matches when I was a kid," Malloy shrugged.

"Mine too," chorused Pallie and Bishop.

"But how d'you know Hermione's yours?" Needled Malloy curiously.

"Bobby," Oliver shrugged. "From the moment he met Hermione, he's been answering her calls an' following her 'round. The day after a asked Hermione tae move in with mae, he told mae Hermione was gonna be the mistress of the manor and the next Lady Wood, he swore a'd marry her. Me parents love her an' when a told them, they dinnae seem surprised. Tha's when they told mae tha' house-elves have their own magic which allows them tae sense their next master or mistress an' they told mae 'boot compatible matches. A dinnae know but they confessed they were each other's most compatible, me da' house-elf told him when they were still in school."

"Lucky bastard," muttered Bishop, giving his head a shake. "Not only have you found your most compatible match so young, but to have Hermione Granger as yours..." He trailed off, the others nodding in agreement.

"And she doesn't know?" Pallie asked.

"Naw," Oliver shook her head. "She's Muggleborn, there's still magics in the world she doesn't understand, hell, a dinnae even know 'boot this one. It's a little harder fer her tae trust her magic the way we do, we were taught tae, she wisnae. But a will tell her, a jus' don' know when yet."

"Hmmm," hummed Thompson, "So, when's the wedding?"

Oliver's eyes widened in panic. "What!" He hissed.

"Wait? _Have_ you asked her to marry you already?" Asked Kings, noticing his alarm. "But then, why isn't she wearing a ring?" He mused.

"No, he hasn't asked her yet but he's bought a ring," said Thompson knowingly. "Haven't you?"

Oliver grumbled something beneath his breath and sent him a less than friendly look as he passed a hand through his hair. "Aye, a have," he admitted, seeing their eyes widen at having it confirmed.

"So _when_ are you going to ask her?"

"A dunno, not yet," Oliver answered, knowing they wouldn't leave him be unless he did. "A wanna give her a little time first before a spring it on her. At the very least, our parents know."

"They do?" They all chorused unintentionally.

"Aye, it's a muggle tradition ta get permission from the bride's father befere proposing, an' though anno he doesn't like mae simply fer the fact he's overprotective an' Hermione's his only child and daughter, he gave mae his blessing fer when a was ready... No more questions," Oliver interrupted Wilks' when his mouth opened. "A've already told ye far more than a ev'r intended. Don' mention any af this tae anyone, a don' want it getting oot or tae Hermione. Now, get back tae work," he ordered, his eyes darting down to the Coach's box and seeing Coach Burton apparently busy in conversation with Hermione.

As his teammates returned to their positions and training manoeuvres, Oliver's eyes remained on the Coach's box. Despite having calmed a little, King's words kept floating through his mind and his hands clenched into fists. He would've strangled him had he not been stopped. He knew that he was far too wound up and it wouldn't take much for it all to boil over. It wasn't yet lunch and if he didn't calm himself, the rest of the day wouldn't be pleasant for anyone. There was only one person that could calm him and without thought, he left his position and flew down to the Coach's box but by the time he'd landed, Hermione had already left.

"Wood?" Coach Burton arched a questioning eyebrow.

"A need tae see Hermione," Oliver replied, dismounting his broom and propping it up against the railing.

Coach Burton tipped his head slightly, noting the change in his addressing of her. Before it had been 'Granger' and now it was 'Hermione'. He supposed there was no need for him to hide his relationship now that it was known to the team.

"What fake injury do you have this time?" He asked.

Oliver refused to be embarrassed or made to feel bad and kept his gaze locked on the Coach's.

"Naw fake injuries," Oliver assured him.

"Real injury?"

"Naw," Oliver shook his head.

"Why do you need to see her?" He probed. Oliver's eyes darted to his teammates above and the Coach's followed. "Say no more, off you go."

"Really?" Oliver questioned in surprise.

Coach Burton nodded. "I saw them crowd you, we both know they don't think before they speak and I can only imagine they said something either insulting or intrusive. I've previously noted that when you return from seeing Hermione you're always calmer. If you're worried you'll do or say something to that lot," he gestured above them, "Hermione can calm you, so, off you go, lunch is in ten minutes anyway."

"Thanks, Coach," Oliver said before he left the Coach's box and headed for Hermione's office.

When he reached his destination, he knocked on the door and entered after she called out, stepping into the examination room the moment he closed the door behind him.

"Seriously? You can't be faking injuries anymore," Hermione said, partially exasperated and partially amused. "I know... Oomph!"

The air rushed out of her lungs when Oliver crossed the room and pulled her against him, folding his arms around her and burying his face against her neck.

"What's wrong?" She frowned, her arms looping around his neck and running her hand gently through the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails lightly scratching against his skin.

"Nothing," he muttered.

"I know you, I know when you're lying," she replied, drawing back from him until she could see his face. "They've been teasing you, haven't they?"

"Naw," he shook his head. "They've been _annoying_ me," he corrected.

"Did you expect anything different?"

"A expected it, but a dinnae expect it be _so_ annoying. A almost strangled Kings an' a would've if Malloy hadn't stopped me."

"They'll get it out of their system," she promised him. "Give it a couple of days and it won't be news to them anymore, it'll all blow over."

"Am jus' glad it's Saturday tomorrow. Where do ye feel like goin' fer the weekend?"

"About that," she nibbled her lip and he arched an eyebrow. "Harry's asked if I'm going to the Burrow for dinner on Sunday?"

"Okay," he replied slowly.

"Well, you know I haven't been back since we last went, it was too awkward. But now that our relationship's as strong as ever, we're happy and the team knows about us, I thought we could both go and tell them about us."

"Yer ready fer tha'?"

She smiled up at him and nodded. "I'm ready. The fundraiser's next Saturday and we'll give it a couple of days to get as much attention as possible before we start venturing out into public and no more hiding. Now's the perfect time to tell Harry and the Weasleys. If they don't take the news well, we'll leave before dinner's served."

"Perfect," he agreed. "But jus' 'cause we're goin' fer dinner on Sunday doesn't mean we cannae go away fer the weekend, we jus' come back earlier than we usually do," he shrugged. "So, where do ye wanna go?"

She nibbled her lip in thought. "Somewhere warm with a beach so we can do nothing but lounge in the sun all day. It's been a while since I've worn a bikini, I might have to pop to the shops and see if I can buy a new one."

"A what?" His head tipped slightly.

"You don't know what a bikini is?"

"Never heard af it," he confirmed.

She smiled up at him. "A bikini, a bathing suit, a _muggle_ bathing suit, it would seem. You've seen the difference between muggle and wizarding fashion. You're in for a treat," she vowed. "Anyway, it's lunchtime, we can eat in here if you want to."

"We shouldn't," he sighed, "The teasing an' suggestive comments from the team will be relentless an' a might actually kill one or twa af them. If we eat in the cafeteria with them we don' give them any potential ammunition an' they're scared af ye so they won't do or say anything annoying."

Hermione snorted before nodding and stepping out of his hold. She retrieved her lunch from her office before they left to the locker room so Oliver might retrieve his own, both of them being thankful for the invention of Cooling Charms to stop their lunch from spoiling.

"So, do you regret meeting me?" Hermione asked.

Oliver's eyes darted down to her in surprise. They were walking beside one another, a little closer than usual but still nothing to be suspicious about despite both of them trying to hold back the habit of reaching for the other's hand and twining their fingers together.

"What?"

"The teasing from the team," she clarified.

"Damsel, a'd endure torture from You-Know-Who if it meant ye were in me life."

"My, that _is_ a declaration of love if I've ever heard one. I wouldn't wish that on my enemies," she replied.

"A _do_ love ye."

"I know, I love you, too," she smiled up at him before they entered the cafeteria and as one, the team that were gathered around a singular table, all turned to face them, scary smiles pulling at their faces. "Do you still love me?" She asked quietly.

"Aye, forever," he promised.

"I'll hold you to that," she replied before walking forward, her posture perfect and her head held high. "If I hear one single comment I deem inappropriate, intrusive or annoying, there will be no baked goods for one week."

"WHAT!"

"ONE WEEK!"

"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!"

Oliver's mouth twitched in amusement as the expression of horror was mirrored by each member of the team.

"You're right," Hermione said lightly, nodding her head. The team all sighed in relief. "Two weeks," she corrected.

"TWO WEEKS!"

"HOW DARE YOU!"

"YOU'RE A MONSTER!"

Oliver knew that he'd be left alone for the remainder of the day. Merlin, did he love and appreciate the little witch as she peered over her shoulder at him and sent a smirk coupled with a wink.

~000~000~000~

**The Burrow – Sunday 7th March 1999**

"Are you ready?" Hermione asked.

"Aye, are ye?" He echoed.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she nodded before releasing a steady breath. "No matter what happens or what's said in there, I love you."

"Anno, an' naw matter what happens or what's said a love ye an' a'll support ye. Do a have permission tae throttle Ron?"

A light laugh fell from her. "I doubt Mrs. Weasley would appreciate it but if you do, hold him down so I might a smack in, too."

"It's a deal," he nodded before taking her hand and leading her towards the Burrow, being thankful the weather had long since warmed up; the last time they'd been there'd been snow on the ground and it'd been freezing. Now there was a gentle breeze and a warm sun and the walk from the shed to the Burrow didn't seem as long.

He could feel Hermione's nerves grow as they approached, both in her hand tightening around his and her body as she pressed herself against him. This was important to her. Whilst he'd already met her parents and he had their approval (her father's begrudgingly), the Weasleys were just as much her family.

"A'll wait in the hall," he told her after entering through the door, the chorus of loud voices filling their ears.

"I won't be long," she promised.

She took several steadying breaths and turned to leave him but she hesitated in releasing his hand. Oliver chuckled before he pressed a kiss to her forehead, both feeling and seeing her relax at the gesture before he pulled his hand free of her grip and gave her a gentle nudge forward.

She cleared her throat and straightened her posture, squaring her shoulders and holding her head high before disappearing from view as if she were about to go into the battle. Hermione headed for the kitchen and when she stepped inside, the smell of the cooking food invaded her nose and made her feel hungry, and she noted that everyone was already present and gathered around the enlarged table. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table with Percy on his left and Bill on his right. Bill was followed by Fleur and Ginny sat beside her with Harry beside her, being in conversation with the twins who sat opposite him. Ron sat in-between Percy and George and Charlie was visiting from Romania, sitting beside Fred, talking across the table and to Ginny whilst Mrs. Weasley bustled around by the kitchen countertops.

"Hello," Hermione called softly in greeting.

All conversation halted and eyes and smiles turned to her.

"Hermione, it's lovely to see you, you really must come by more often, we miss you around here," said Mrs. Weasley as she hurried over to give her a bone-crushing hug.

"I'm sorry, I've been very busy."

"Don't we know it, Miss. Healer to Puddlemere United's finest," said George.

"Why didn't you tell us? We're a little hurt we had to find out in the paper," added Fred.

"Wait? You're Puddlemere's Healer? Since when?" Asked Charlie in surprise. "And by the way, you're looking good, 'Mione," Charlie wriggled his eyebrows.

Hermione laughed lightly and Mrs. Weasley tutted at him. "Down there Dragon Boy," she replied, sniggers sounding in the room. "I've been Puddlemere's Healer since December, several of the players are my patients and I was called as the previous team Healer was appalling, it's a wonder none of them died... Yes, I'm being serious," she added before one of the twins could ask if she were joking. "He was useless and neglectful and I brought it to the attention of the authorities. Since then, I'm their Healer. I didn't tell you because I didn't know myself. I received an envelope with an offer and a contract, it was too good to refuse, especially when they promised to donate monthly to the orphanage and pay for the children's' education."

"Damn, no wonder you accepted," said George, "Of course, the wage didn't sway it?"

"A little," she admitted and he smirked at her proudly.

"Well, take a seat, Dear, dinner's about ready," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Actually, there's something I need to talk to you about," Hermione said, shifting slightly on her feet, something that went unmissed by everyone.

"Oh?" Ginny arched an eyebrow, giving her a look as if she _knew_ what she was about to say.

"Yes, you see, I've been keeping something from you for a while now, and now I'm ready and happy to tell you."

"Is this why you've been busy lately?" Asked Harry, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Partially," she nodded. "I _am_ busy with my Healer duties, both private and for the team as well as the cases I'm consulting on for St. Mungo's, but there's another reason. You see..."

"Spit it out," Ginny rolled her eyes, her eyes gleaming.

Hermione cleared her throat and clasped her hands together.

"I've been seeing someone."

"WHAT!"

Hermione winced against the chorused voices, some of the voices surprised and others angry. Those that were angry belonged to Ron and Harry, the former a jealous arsehole, the latter an overprotective best friend.

"I didn't tell you because I didn't want to until we were a bit more serious, until we were ready for people to know. We wanted to spend time together without people seeing and without the press finding out."

"He's famous?" Bill arched an eyebrow.

"He is," Hermione nodded. "You know the media and their obsession with us," she gestured between herself, Harry and Ron, "I didn't want them poking their noses in and ruining something before it even had a chance to go somewhere. I liked not having to share him with anyone else, and I didn't tell you for the same reasons. I do trust you but when you're drunk, you Weasleys have a habit of spilling your secrets."

Harry nodded agreement.

"Got a point there," Charlie conceded, scratching his chin and chuckling.

"We've both come to the agreement it's time to tell everyone. Our parents have already met and my mum adores him, my dad, not so much," she admitted and they snorted. Mr. Weasley chuckled and nodded in understanding whilst his eyes darted to Ginny and Harry briefly. "I even went on a muggle spa retreat with my mum and his mum last week. We are going to go public but we're not going to do it by releasing a statement, we're simply going to venture into public without hiding until we're spotted and we're waiting until after the fundraiser for the orphanage which is next Saturday," she reminded them, "And we don't wish to take attention away from it. I wanted you to find out from me and not the media, and his teammates already know after they saw me at his house..."

"Teammates?" Questioned Harry suspiciously.

"Yes," she nodded. "Please, be nice to him, he's outside waiting and I'll fetch him now." Taking a breath and keeping her eyes firmly away from Ron's hateful glare, she popped her head out of the door and called out, Oliver soon coming into view. He gave her a comforting smile before he stepped into the kitchen, standing beside her.

The kitchen was deadly silent as their confused gazes darted between her and Oliver.

"Wood? What are you doing here?" Fred tipped his head.

"Oliver's my boyfriend," Hermione said, smiling sheepishly when Oliver slipped his larger hand around her much smaller one.

"Huh?" George said. "I don't get the joke."

"It's not a joke," said Oliver calmly. "She's me girlfriend."

"You? Quidditch obsessed nutjob?"

Hermione scowled at him. "Don't say that," she chastised. "Oliver's a brilliant wizard. Yes, Quidditch is his passion but it's not his _only_ passion. He's very smart and talented in other areas, too."

"Sorry," George shook his head, leaning back into his chair as if to get further away from her and Ginny sniggered.

"I knew there was someone," she said smugly. "Harry didn't believe me," she jabbed her thumb in his direction but he didn't respond, his haze locked firmly on Oliver. "How long have you been together?"

Hermione and Oliver looked to each other.

"That's complicated, we'll say December?" She looked at Oliver questioningly.

"December," he nodded. Not only was it when they'd both shared their first kiss under the mistletoe, it was when they realised they'd loved each other.

"So why'd you go on those blind dates I set you up on?" She arched her eyebrow.

Hermione shrugged. "To throw you off," Hermione lied. "Oliver understood, it was his idea."

"You were together when you last came for dinner?" Mrs. Weasley brow furrowed.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "We were just friends at that point but our relationship grew without either of us realising it until it smacked us in the face and we were forced to admit our feelings for one another."

"You say you're serious, how serious?" Harry asked, his eyes narrowed slightly. To Oliver's credit, he didn't budge or squirm, he held Harry's gaze unflinchingly.

"I love him," Hermione confessed, forcing down her blush at the wide-eyed looks she received.

"A love her," Oliver added, splutters and coughs sounding in the kitchen.

"And...Well... We live together... And have since February." Hermione winced at the horrified gasp that left Mrs. Weasley and the surprised sounds of the others. "Please, Molly..." Hermione interrupted her rant before it could begin. "I understand that you have your own views and traditions regarding cohabitation before marriage, but the world's changed from when you were my age. It is no longer taboo. It isn't frowned upon in the Muggle World, my parents lived together before they married, and my father's almost ten years older than my mother. Neither of them has an issue with us living together and neither do Oliver's parents. And as much as I love you, no matter what you may say, I won't allow you to make me feel guilty for being with the wizard I love."

"May a please speak with ye fer a moment in private?" Oliver said politely, looking to the Weasley parents and they nodded slowly.

Oliver gave her hand a squeeze before he stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room, drawing his wand and muttering a Silencing Charm the moment they followed. Mrs. Weasley's lips were pursed and her hands were set on her hips whilst her husband looked to him questioningly regarding the use of the Silencing Charm.

"Anno Hermione considers yer family tae be her family an' anno she sees ye both as her parents," he started, seeing Mrs. Weasley blink in surprise, her expression softening slightly. "An' fer tha' reason a wish tae share somethin' with ye, somethin' me parents already know as well as Hermione's."

"And that is?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Do ye know 'boot compatible matches?"

They both blinked in surprise and shared a glance before they turned their eyes back to him.

"Yes, we do. Molly and I are our most compatible."

Oliver's mouth twitched into a smile. "As are me mother and father," Oliver nodded. "Well, Hermione's me most compatible."

"Are you certain?" Asked Mrs. Weasley, her hands falling from her hips and her body language changing into something more welcoming and open.

"Aye," he nodded. "Me house-elf's been answering Hermione's calls since meeting her an' he follows her 'round me manor. He told mae she is the future Lady Wood, tha' she's tae be his mistress an' a will marry her. A spoke tae me parents an' tha's when they told mae 'boot compatible matches. Hermione _is_ me most compatible an' am hers. It's why a asked her tae move in with mae, a cannae bear the thought af her not being beside mae. Hermione doesn't know yet an' am gonna tell her, jus' not yet, with her bein' Muggleborn anno she'll need time tae come tae terms with it. When a met her parents, a told them ev'rything an' not only tha', a got her father's permission, as per muggle tradition, tae marry her."

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Weasley whispered.

Oliver smiled down at the short, stumpy woman. "A've already bought her an engagement ring. Naw matter hoo long we've been together, a want tae marry her an' a am gonna marry her. Am jus' waiting fer the right time tae propose."

"Oh Goodness," cried Mrs. Weasley.

Oliver's breath was knocked out of him when the small woman pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, quiet sniffles sounding from her and when she pulled back, she chuckled and wiped at her teary eyes.

"Sorry, Dear," she apologised. "I am happy our Hermione has found someone that loves her so. I know she and Ron had their problems but now I know why... She found you."

Oliver smiled, deliberately biting the inside of his cheek to prevent a string of sentences from leaving his mouth, mainly the real reason behind their breakup – Ron being an arsehole and treating her like shit.

"Congratulations, my boy," said Mr. Weasley, clapping Oliver on the shoulder and smiling at him.

"Thank ye, please don' say anythin'. Hermione doesn't know an' a wish tae keep it a surprise."

"Of course, our lips are sealed," Mrs. Weasley nodded. "Especially against the children, Hermione is right, they do tend to be a little loose-lipped after drinking. Now, we best get back in there, we've dinner to be eaten."

Oliver nodded and when they stepped back into the kitchen, he froze at the sudden cold, tense and awkward atmosphere. Everyone was silent and leaning back into their chairs, their eyes darting between an angry and red-faced Ron and a silently seething Hermione, her hands clenched into fists and her hair surrounding her in a frizzy halo. She was _furious_.

They'd missed something.

He crossed over to her, settling a hand on the small of her back and she visibly relaxed, a rush of air leaving her mouth as she leaned back against him, tipping her head against his shoulder to look up at him.

"Do ye want me tae hit him?" He muttered.

Her mouth twisted. "Not before I do," she replied. "I'll be fine as long as he keeps his mouth shut and doesn't look at me. I'm not letting him scare me away. I've missed them and I'm happy to be sharing you with them so they can see how wonderful you are."

"Ronald, where are your manners?" Scolded Mrs. Weasley. "Be nice or leave the table and find elsewhere to dine."

"Mum..."

"No, Ronald," she set her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes, the redhead wizard snapping his mouth shut and silently glowering at the surface of the table. "Hermione, Oliver, find your seats."

Silently, Hermione took a seat beside Harry and Oliver sat beside her, holding her hand under the table.

"Now then, how'd you land our dear old Captain and Quidditch Star as your fella?" Asked Fred, leaning forward and folding his arms against the surface of the table.

"My baking," Hermione shrugged lightly.

"Damn right, don't blame the wizard," agreed George.

"She threatened the team with naw baked goods fer twa weeks if they dinnae behave an' keep their comments an' teasing 'boot our relationship tae themselves. Pallie actually cried," Oliver said amusedly.

"To be fair, I'd probably cry, too," admitted Bill. "She does make _the_ best rhubarb pie."

The others nodded vehemently.

"So, what's for dessert today? Not gonna lie, I've missed your baking," Charlie said.

"I'll be sure to send them more often," Hermione promised and Charlie grinned in response.

"Let me know, yeah? So I can hide them, if the other Keepers get wind of your little surprise, they'll break into my cabin and steal it all. They damn well did last time, they only left me one cookie as if I wouldn't notice the rest were missing along with both pies, the brownies _and_ the cheesecake," he scowled unhappily.

"I'll jinx them next time so only your wand can open the hamper," she replied.

"Best sister ever," he grinned.

"Oi!" Ginny called, looking for something to throw but she had nothing other than plates and cutlery.

"Learn to cook like mum or bake like 'Mione and then maybe I'll reconsider," he shrugged. She rolled her eyes.

"As for dessert," Hermione interrupted, drawing their attention, "I haven't baked anything."

"WHAT!" They all cried. She winced and Oliver's mouth twitched in amusement.

"Now _I_ feel like crying," muttered Fred.

"I'm sorry but I haven't had the chance," she explained.

Well, it wasn't completely true. She'd had time to bake one lemon meringue pie but that had been solely for Oliver, it being his favourite and he'd lamented on the fact he would _not_ share it with anyone, much to her amusement.

"Why not?"

"We hadn't been back long before we came here."

"Where'd you go?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"We went to Cuba for the weekend."

"What!" Shrieked Fleur and Ginny, staring at her in betrayal as if she'd dared to go to such an exotic place without them.

"Cuba, we went for the weekend, we would've stayed until Monday morning and then just floo'd straight to the stadium from there, but we came back early so we could come to dinner."

"You went to Cuba?" Ginny questioned slowly.

"Yes, we often go away for the weekend. Since we've been together, we've been to Paris a few times, we've been to Milan, we went to Venice and Rome for Valentine's Day and Cuba this weekend."

They all stared silently whilst Ron looked more angry than surprised.

Ginny's eyes flew to Harry.

"How come you don't take me away for the weekend to exotic places?"

"I have a job, Gin, I work odd and long hours," Harry rolled his eyes.

"So does Oliver, he and Hermione work six days a week and Hermione has _two_ jobs. And they still manage to find time together and he whisks her away to explore the world. Where's my romantic getaway?"

Harry dropped his head into his hands and sighed before looking to Oliver.

"Thanks, Mate, you've just made me look like the worst boyfriend in the world," he said and the others sniggered at him.

"It's not Oliver's fault he's so perfect," Hermione smiled smugly.

"She deserves the best an' am making sure she gets it. If she wants tae travel the world, then we'll travel the world," Oliver replied, smiling down at Hermione and squeezing her hand under the table, ignoring the retching sounds from the twins and Ron grinding his teeth.

"Yes, Harry, don't I deserve the best, too?" Said Ginny.

Harry grumbled and buried his face in his hands whilst she and Oliver sniggered.

"So..."

Hermione looked to the twins suspiciously after they'd dragged out the singular word.

"These other areas Wood's _very_ talented in..." Started Fred.

"You wouldn't happen to have been talking about in the bedroom, would you?" Finished George.

Hermione knew they were trying to embarrass her. It had worked with her mum and Oliver's, but not with the twins.

Hermione shrugged. "No complaints from me."

"None?" Charlie arched an eyebrow.

"Nope, it's not my fault he's _perfect_... Are you embarrassed?" She asked, looking to Oliver.

He looked more amused than anything despite the turn the conversation had taken. "Nope, continue," he encouraged.

"Perfect?" Echoed the twins.

She nodded. "Multiple orgasms every time."

" _Every_ time?" They looked at him appraisingly.

Oliver smirked and nodded smugly. " _Ev'ry_ time," he confirmed.

"Damn, Wood, you're really pulling out all the stops," said Charlie.

"Oh, weekend romantic getaways _and_ multiple orgasms!" Said Ginny. "Harry, you need to up your game or _I'm_ gonna date Oliver."

"You'll have to get passed my wand first," snorted Hermione.

"Merlin, I've never seen you possessive over _anything_ before. Fine, I'll date him in my dreams."

"Sorry, I think he'll be too busy being in mine," Hermione chirped.

"Oh fine!" She huffed. "Step up your game," Ginny warned Harry, who looked very torn between fleeing from the room or _Avada_ 'ing himself. "I mean it, Harry. I want multiple orgasms, too."

"GINEVRA WEASLEY!" Shrieked Mrs. Weasley.

"Sorry, Mum," she replied, looking far from it.

She and Oliver shared a snigger.

"Well, it went a lot better than I thought it would, but I suppose they already knew you beforehand," commented Hermione.

Oliver nodded. "What happened when a left? What did he say tae ye?"

Hermione sighed. "He called me every name under the sun and insulted you, too. It's nothing I haven't heard before, I was more upset that he was slandering your character than the insults aimed at me... It's good you came in when you did otherwise I'd have put him in St. Mungo's. What did you need to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley about?"

"Just' telling them 'boot me ma," he lied.

She smiled and nodded, turning her attention towards the food dishes that were lowering onto the table.

When Oliver looked up, Mrs. Weasley was stood by her husband's chair, her hand resting on his shoulder as she watched him closely, tears gathering in her eyes and a knowing smile on her face.

He'd thought his and Hermione's mothers had been bad, Mrs. Weasley might just blow apart his plans if she burst into tears and rushed over to hug them. Feeling Hermione squeezing his hand, he looked down at her questioning gaze.

"You alright?" She asked in concern.

"Never better," he responded, giving her a smile and lifting the dish of mash potato, spooning some onto her plate and then his own before the Weasley children could get to it and eat it all.

"So, Oliver Wood, huh?" Harry muttered.

Hermione turned away from Oliver and to Harry, leaning a little closer so their conversation could be kept private without casting a charm, but the noise of the conversations around them helped to drown out their words.

"Yes," Hermione replied softly. "I love him, Harry, I truly do. I can see myself with him for a really long time. He's not the person you think he is."

"And who's that?" He challenged.

"A Quidditch obsessed nutjob," she replied, echoing George's words from earlier and Harry snorted. "He's not the person you see in the media, that you saw in school or that his teammates see. With me, he's completely different. I know the things he hides from everyone. I know that he loves liquorice wands, he likes reading my muggle fairytale books, he'll sit and play with Merlin for hours rather than telling him to settle down because he doesn't want to 'upset him'. He'll get up two or three times during the night to let Merlin out to use the bathroom no matter that he needs his sleep to keep up with his demanding training schedule or that Merlin disappears on the grounds and might be out for an hour before he comes back."

"He doesn't think I know but when we're at the stadium, he deliberately stays away from me as much as possible, he's under a lot of pressure from the bosses to get the team ready for the game season which is only a few months away. His job's very stressful and dangerous and that makes him snappy, he doesn't want me to see that side of him when he's working. During our time together, he's never once insulted me, upset me or raised his voice. He tells me I'm beautiful and that he loves me _every_ day without fail. I promise he is a good man. He's not Ronald. Please be nice to him. I know you haven't had the chance to interrogate him or scrutinise him, but it's not like he's a complete stranger, is it? I know you're protective and I love you for that, but he's met my parents and they love him. My dad would have _definitely_ made it known if he hadn't. And not only that, we live together. This isn't a casual thing, we're serious. We're building a life _together_."

"You see yourself marrying him?" Harry arched an eyebrow.

She forced down the blush. "Honestly, yes I do. It might seem silly to you, given that none of this mattered to me before, but I want to marry him. I want to have children with him. He's so good with the kids are the orphanage, they love him and he loves going to see them as much as we do. He's the one that reminds me that we have to find time to visit. Trust me, Harry, please. I know what I'm doing when it comes to Oliver. He is perfect for me. I don't know how, but I can feel it in both my heart and my magic."

Harry's bright green eyes examined her closely for a moment or two before he slowly nodded.

"Okay, I'll back off and I won't go threatening him."

"I'm pretty sure the team's already done that," she injected and he snorted. "They're very protective of me, more so than you are. I can't even sneeze without one of them rushing over and making sure I haven't broken something."

He laughed and shook his head. "I'll be nice, but if he steps out of line..." He let the threat go unfinished but known.

"He won't," she vowed. "I know he won't."


End file.
